


The Reparation of Anakin Skywalker

by superweeniehutjr



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, Not Canon Compliant, Podfic Welcome, Post Twilight of the Apprentice, Spoilers for Clone Wars Season 7, anakin’s personality is mostly inspired by clone wars, god i hate the rebels, hopefully idk, i hate the rebels, no canon bye canon, oh yeah, old band back together again yeehaw, rules for podfics inside, so they’re only here for a blink, so vader is a little ooc, stay tuned, truly the redemption arc we deserve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superweeniehutjr/pseuds/superweeniehutjr
Summary: Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers, swinging one of them up to his neck. "Who are you?"Vader gritted his teeth together so tightly that he was almost concerned they would crack. This wasn't a trick from the Rebellion—it was merely a twisted, insolent coincidence. He swallowed harshly and leaned as close as the blade would allow.“I was the Chosen One."
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 166
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> rules for podfics:
> 
> podfics of any portion of this story are completely welcome—whether it’s a chapter, a single interaction, or the whole thing. just make sure to credit me and link back to here so i can listen!! thank you all for reading :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in a universe where Ahsoka and Darth Vader haven't previously interacted.
> 
> EDITED 2/3/21

Ezra Bridger gripped the base of his lightsaber tighter, stubbornly planting his feet into the ground as his face morphed into a scowl. “I don’t fear you."

“Then you will die braver than most,” came the ruthless response. A familiar red glow illuminated the room as Darth Vader drew his lightsaber back, preparing to swing again. With every electronic buzz, the blade only got closer to striking. 

Ezra grunted as he leaned into his next swing.

Then, with a shrill zap, the hilt of his lightsaber severed in half. Ezra collided with the ground, wincing at the live wires that sparked beside him. Slowly, his eyes lifted to the looming figure standing above him.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” taunted Vader, who drew his arm back once more, his tone lacking any mercy. Ezra shifted helplessly to move away, hurt hand clutched against his chest. 

Before Vader could do anything else, a voice echoed through the space; it was loud and held a deep sense of conviction. Unwelcomed. Far, far too familiar.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” is what she said, and that’s all it took for Vader’s blood to run cold.

He tried to take a breath, but it seemed like his lungs couldn’t fill. Shock, thick and potent, hit him in the center of his chest; it wrapped around his mind and splintered into his robotic limbs, reaching every part of him with the truest sensation of agony he had felt in a long time. 

_It can’t be her,_ he repeated to himself, over and over again, but each assurance felt almost empty. _The Emperor said she died years ago._

In fact, Vader had her lightsaber to prove it. She had to be dead.

There was a suffocating, drawn-out moment of silence. No one dared to move a muscle; Ezra shook at his feet, his breath bated, until Vader’s respirator whirred once more. It was slow. Strained. He forced it in and out, his chest tensing so much that it felt like what was left of his lungs was being crushed.

He gritted his teeth. Then, he lowered his weapon. When he turned, slowly, hesitantly, his eyes landed on a togruta standing at the mouth of the temple.

So it was her.

His stomach twisted, a million questions whirling through his mind. Vader glanced between her and the boy trembling at his feet, a sudden rush of raw, unfiltered anger clouding his vision. 

_Did…_

No, there was no question about it. They sent her there to kill him.

Ahsoka seemed to sense the shift in the Force, yet she dared to look innocent—as though it wasn't her doing. As though she didn't mind being a puppet.

_And they called him cruel._

The togruta ignited her lightsabers, watching him closely as he took a menacing step toward her. She could feel the Force around him—pulling, full of deep emotion as it stretched across the air between them. The presence was familiar yet foreign, holding the resemblance of both an old friend and a stranger.

With every step Vader took, the tension in the space grew thicker and more tangible. His tight grip on his lightsaber twitched, an unruly panic brewing in the core of his being. 

"They told me you were dead.” 

The words slipped out of his mouth far before he processed them. It didn’t even feel like it was his voice that said it. She watched him, planting her feet and widening her stance, brows tightly knitted together. 

“What are you talking about?" she asked.

Of course she would play the victim. It only made sense. He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind to stop wandering so he could concentrate on his orders and the task at hand.

 _Kill the Jedi,_ Lord Sidious demanded, _all of them._

He drew his blade, knuckles turning white under his gloves and shaking against his will. She didn't deserve his remorse. They weren't on the same side this time. _She_ was the criminal—working with the Rebellion to fulfill a pitiful desire to stand out and defy the systems put in place.

She deserved her fate.

"I suppose I will have to kill you myself," he spoke, the words tasting vile in his mouth.

Her expression twisted. "Come get me."

Their lightsabers clashed. He pushed into his swings, taking every advantage given to him as he recognized the need to kill her quickly.

With every strike, a new memory fought to resurface—from their first meeting to their last, and each and everything in between. Memories he had suppressed into the deepest corners of his mind grew nearly impossible to ignore. He bit his tongue harshly, the familiar taste of copper seeping into his mouth shortly after.

“Tell me where to find the remaining Jedi,” snarled Vader, blood splattering from his lip to the inside panel of his mask.

She grumbled and swung again, "Not a chance."

Their lightsabers clashed again, and again, and _again,_ and he was beginning to feel frustrated. Why couldn't she see that the Empire is here to restore peace in the galaxy? Why couldn't she just open her eyes to the truth?

His blade came down on hers firmly. "Even after everything the Jedi have done, you still choose to put your faith in them,” he said, his composure slipping. “It’s pitiful.”

She grunted, screwing her feet into the ground and pushing against the blade. "You know nothing," she tightened her grip and added more pressure. 

They both let up, taking a step away from each other. 

"I know more than you think, young one."

"Not enough." Ahsoka tried to jab her left blade toward his side, but he blocked the weapon before it touched him. 

He force-pushed her back as another wave of unwanted memories arose. The balls of her feet skidded across the open platform, her arms flying out for a moment so she could regain her balance. Ahsoka looked at him with wide eyes as she reignited her lightsabers, and he paused.

She was the enemy.

But... perhaps she could be persuaded. 

He took a small step toward her. “We need not be adversaries," he said. "The Emperor will show you mercy if you tell us where to find the remaining Jedi.”

"There are no more Jedi. You and your Inquisitors have seen to that.”

Her lips curled into a snarl as she spoke. There was agony in those words—loneliness as well—yet, he couldn’t find any sense of betrayal. Not in the way she should feel it toward him, seeing as most of the Jedi died at the hand of their former friend.

“And even if there were,” she panted, “I would never help a monster like you.”

There was no humor in Vader’s voice when he spat, "Spoken like a true Jedi,” in response.

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, reigniting her sabers. "I am no Jedi."

Vader growled as she charged at him, meeting his lightsaber with hers. “Tell me, then—what is the point in fighting for them?” 

Ahsoka grunted as she pushed against his weapon, feeling her spine ache under the pressure. "I don't have to explain myself to you!”

_Sanctimonious,_ was a thought that crossed Vader’s mind, _so painfully sanctimonious._

“Every remnant of the Jedi and the Old Republic will soon fade away.” He pushed against her blades, causing her to lose her footing and stumble backward. "I am giving you the chance to rise above that. Why won't you _take it?"_

He allowed her time to stand again. Once she got to her feet, she scowled at him. “I will never turn to the Dark Side.” 

“Dark Side, Light Side—can't you realize that there is no true difference between the two?" Vader's helmet tipped to the side slightly. “We both use the Force for our own purpose."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. "You're twisting it."

"I see that you speak on behalf of the Force now.”

Her face twisted. "You don't have to be a Jedi to know what the Empire has done is _wrong."_

"As if a _Jedi_ could be used as a model for perfection." Vader’s words were spat like venom. "Surely you know the Council was corrupted. That's the reason it fell."

She moved into her combat position. "I'm not interested in discussing politics with you."

"Politics,” he chuckled, long and bitter. He took a step toward her. "At least the Separatists earned their power." 

"If killing is how you ‘earn’ something,” Ahsoka said, “then yes, I suppose they did.”

"Are you truly so naïve that you believe the Jedi never killed out of their own self-interest?" He took another step forward. “As they flaunted their misplaced self-righteousness, they became no better than the cause they so valiantly fought against."

She huffed a breath. "The Jedi were meant to be peace-keepers."

"They were _silencers._ Spokesmen living in complacent ignorance, watching from podiums as the world around them burned." Vader paused. “It is the Jedi’s inability to accept progress that started the war.”

“The Jedi tried to reserve balance in the Force,” she returned. “We tried to help as many people as we could—“

“You’re _still_ defending them.” He took another step toward her. “It was an illusion, Ahsoka!—a low-minded grab for power! When will you wake up and realize that the Jedi are not to be trusted?"

Her face darkened at his words, and he reeled in another mechanical breath, using the moment to collect himself. “You were disposable to them," he said, "was that not made clear when they turned on you?” 

Without subtly, she brought her hands up to the two sabers latched onto her belt. 

“How do you know about that?”

“We both know how this will turn out.” He watched her. “There is no point in continuing in this foolish performance.”

Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers, swinging one of them up to his neck. It hovered just above the durasteel. “What are you talking about?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. "Who are you?"

Vader opened his mouth to speak—but his breath caught in his throat when his eyes suddenly began to burn, the yellow tint he saw the world through fading for a moment. Then, it hit him; a thought so simple, so subtle, so _foolish,_ and yet…

His mind hastily reached into the Force and searched for any form of deception, of lies, of ploy—ultimately coming up short. A long beat of silence passed, a single, abrupt thought ricocheting through his mind.

She doesn't know who's behind the mask.

He gritted his teeth together so tightly that he was almost concerned they would crack. This wasn't a trick from the Rebellion—it was merely a twisted, insolent coincidence. This whole time, he was unrecognized by his former apprentice, who fought valiantly, trying to bring him to his knees.

The realization was too much to bear. 

Even still, he was in a battle that he could not abandon. This knowledge struck him to his core, and it made him wonder… 

If he could force this same disadvantage upon her.

He swallowed harshly and leaned as close as the blade would allow. Even this close, she could not see the man behind the mask. It filled him with a sense of bitterness.

With a long breath, he said, "I was the Chosen One.”

At his statement, a wave of emotion crashed over both of them. Vader's throat tightened at the climactic shift in the Force around her— _horror, anger, confusion._ The despair became so palpable he could nearly reach out and touch it. The emotion seeped through his skin, penetrating the very core of his being. This…

He did not expect this.

“What do you mean, the _Chosen One?"_ she urged, hesitantly, as she swiftly brought up her other blade and crossed one over the other above his throat. Her knuckles turned light orange gripping the handles. “There’s—there was only _one_ person they called that."

Her hands trembled at his silence.

"No." Her lightsaber blades vanished as her arms dropped limply to her sides. "No, no, no. This—this isn't right. You're not him. You can't be him."

She looked like she was going to be sick. 

Vader gritted his teeth again.

"Anakin?" Ahsoka’s breath audibly stuttered, an unfamiliar burst of emotion beginning to boil beneath her skin. She stumbled back. “It can't be. My Master could _never_ be as vile as you.”

"It was foretold that I would bring balance to the Force," he paused, his voice wavering.

Her breathing suddenly picked up. She ignited her left lightsaber before slicing the side of his mask with an anguished cry, sending the metal flying across the floor and exposing part of his face. He ignited his saber before she could do any further damage, wincing when her blades came down on his harshly. 

"How can you see _this_ as balance?" she rasped, her swings having much more power behind them than before. "The Empire is built on nothing but _lies_ and _deception—"_

"The Jedi are no better," he retorted sharply, tears clouding his vision, "they don't deserve our remorse."

She let out an aggravated yell when his lightsaber came down on hers, causing her back to bend unnaturally. "How could you fall so _far?"_

"It was a small price to pay for enlightenment.”

His modifier had been damaged, allowing his real voice to seep through. Ahsoka's knees were shaking. She pushed herself into her next swing, their lightsabers buzzing loudly as they clashed over and over again—each wave with more intensity than the last. 

She looked into his eyes, wincing at the sickening golden tint. “Do you know how long we searched for you?"

He didn't respond, focusing his energy on maintaining the upper hand. It proved to be rather difficult.

"After the war," she panted as she swung again, "I searched for years.” _Swing, swing, swing._ “How could you do this? How could you?”

Ahsoka stepped away for a moment, looking at the severed side of his mask so she could see his face. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, breaths coming out in short gasps. 

“Was it worth it?"

At her question, memories of the many horrors that he had inflicted throughout the years resurfaced in his mind. He had killed so many. Most without remorse, most lacking a proper cause—all slain in his pursuit of power.

The survivors—the _witnesses_ —never made it far. Vader killed them shortly after they shared their testimonies, allowing time for their rumors to circulate. The whispers of the natives quickly turned into galaxy-wide panic, allowing him to build his fame simply through parlance. 

Through doing so, he had gotten what he’d always yearned for: respect. With all the work he had done, he told himself he deserved it.

He believed that on the good days.

Regardless of the power he possessed, Vader still felt as though he had a chain wrapped around his throat—one that the Emperor yanked whenever he needed a favor. He knew, deep down, his rank would never advance. He would always be second.

Vader's ensuing silence seemed to only fuel Ahsoka's hunger for an explanation. She drew her blade again. 

_"Answer me!”_

He watched her expression closely, a mixture of rage and desperation in the Force around her. Then, he detached. "Yes," he said, "it _was_ worth it."

But Ahsoka could sense the endless feeling of regret that surrounded him—its chains pulling, dragging him deeper and deeper into the destructive path he had chosen. There was a nearly inconceivable amount of pain that hid below the surface—the emotion piercing the very core of his being, binding his soul to despondency.

"You're lying,” she accused.

"Stop giving yourself hope.” He struggled to keep his voice impassive with the memories of his past life creeping up on him. A gross feeling of nostalgia entered the Force, reminding him of all that he used to have; of the life he could have obtained if he stood with the Jedi.

But he stopped the train of thought as soon as it came. No, he couldn't lose sight of the horrors that the Jedi had inflicted—they were no better than the Sith. _They_ just worked in secret, hidden behind a tainted veil of virtue. If he had to take a side, he wanted to stand honestly.

"You feel trapped," she panted, fingers wrapped tightly around the hilts of her lightsabers as she took a hesitant step forward. "I can sense it."

Vader shook his head, shunning himself for even letting the thoughts in. "You’re delusional."

She felt the Force expand around him, drawing in a million different directions. "There's no point in hiding," she said. 

_The Jedi were evil,_ a voice told him, _but... she wasn’t a Jedi._

He clenched his fist as a soft voice whispered into his ear, asking him to stop and rethink. Perhaps there was a reason Ahsoka was here. Perhaps… it wasn't a coincidence that they met again.

No, Ahsoka was conspiring with the Rebellion—there was no way for them to be acquainted without them _both_ being charged with treason. 

She was the enemy.

He hesitated as another thought sprung to mind.

_...wasn’t she?_

Between the two of them, _he_ was the one with the most blood on his hands. _He_ was the one that burned down cities in the name of his cause; the monster parents warned their children about. Ahsoka would never do the things that he had done.

But he was trying to maintain peace.

He shuttered a breath.

_Was it power or peace he was more concerned over?_

That thought hit him the stomach, sending a spark of alarm up his spine at his own hesitation to answer it. Did… he truly not know the difference between them? 

No, he was on the right side. He was sure of it.

_But what if he wasn't?_

He remembered the countless cries of innocents; envisioned the smugness of the guilty. He knew one deserved it over the other—yet he slaughtered both. _Where was the line between justice and tyranny?_

Vader felt a tormenting tug on his soul, his mind spinning, his senses overwhelmed at his realization. In a moment of clouded judgment, his honesty trickled through—an honesty he hardly registered as his own.

"I never meant for it to go this far."

Ahsoka tried to hide her surprise at his confession, but he felt the Force shift around her. 

"Then why would you let it?" Her voice was softer now, resembling the tone she would use to comfort a wounded soldier.

He closed his eyes when his stomach twisted again. 

His love for Padmé was what started this path—his desperation to protect her, to keep her alive. He found ways to turn his sorrow into anger, and anger into power, but it never took away from the grief that haunted him, or the darkness that hung over his shoulders from dawn to dusk. 

There were times when life would catch up to him, and he would realize that he couldn't save her—that the prophetic dreams he received revealed her fate, and there was no way for him to change that. 

The burden of the inevitable had ensnared him while she was still alive. He counted the days with trepidation, aching to save her from the bitter hands of death, from the reaper that waited to pounce.

But all of his efforts were for nothing.

"It was the only way to save her," he rasped, voice low and suddenly thick with emotion. He dimly acknowledged the tears that streamed down his face, the moisture collecting at the bottom of his mask uncomfortably.

Vader wanted to scold himself for being weak, _vulnerable_ in front of the enemy—but instead, he took in a shaky breath, letting his eyes close once more as he lowered his head. 

"But I couldn't," he admitted, "I wasn't strong enough."

Then, Ahsoka's features softened, a mixture of compassion and sympathy manifesting itself in the Force around her as the pieces began to draw together. It felt peaceful. 

"Anakin.” Ahsoka took a hesitant step forward. “You can't blame yourself for what happened to someone else."

He flinched back. "Can't you see that her blood is on my hands?" His voice broke, sounding almost droid-like with his broken modifier. "I failed her."

"But that's not your doing," she insisted, _"no one_ is powerful enough to manipulate death. Not even you."

Vader shook his head. "I could have been."

He knew he was lying to himself, and she knew too. He wouldn't be able to save her when death had already marked her soul.

But before Ahsoka could say anything more, a blast of purple lightning erupted from inside the Sith Temple, waves of blue energy overflowing into the outer ledges of the platform and pushing them back as debris began to whirl in the air. Her eyes landed on Ezra and Kanan, staggering out of the center with the Holocron in hand, and at the sight of them, it finally hit her. 

The Temple was collapsing. 

They needed to leave. 

Ahsoka turned to Vader, sensing a turmoil brew beneath the façade. 

Power or peace. 

“Go,” he spoke before he could stop himself, his stomach twisting at his own words.

_“What?”_

He glanced over to Ezra and Kanan, uncertain. “Take your companions and go," he repeated tensely, "before I change my mind.”

Ahsoka watched him, eyes narrowing at the hesitation that bled through his words. "Why would you let us escape?" 

His eyes flickered from Ahsoka to the Temple. 

"Ahsoka!" Ezra yelled from the ship, his voice rasping. "We have to _go!"_

She glanced at Vader again, feeling the fresh wave of anguish that encompassed him at the mention of her departure. 

"You have to leave now, Ahsoka," he warned, voice low and urgent. "There isn't much time."

But she only stood there. After a moment of thought, she dropped her sabers to the ground. "No."

His eyes widened, alarm clear in his voice, "I beg your pardon?"

"I won't leave you," she decided. "Not again. There's still good in you, Anakin. I can sense it."

"Ahsoka, _hurry,"_ Kanan yelled as the ship rose from the platform. "This place is coming down!"

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." Vader looked around as the Temple began collapsing into ruins. "I'm not worth your life."

"Then come with us," she insisted, extending a hand. "We can help you."

"It's not that simple," he spoke through gritted teeth, though he did take a fleeting second to consider her offer. One that he was sure to scold himself for later. "I cannot just leave."

The ship hovered above them. "Ahsoka, time is up!"

 _"Ahsoka,"_ he said harshly. "You can't stay here, Snips. You have to go _now.”_

She looked at him, the nickname echoing through her mind with a sharp pang of nostalgia. 

"Ahsoka," Another shout from above them, impossibly more desperate than the last. "We have to go _now!"_

A frustrated sigh fell from her lips, and she turned to him one last time. "I'll come back for you, Anakin," she said, "I promise."

At her announcement, she felt a new emotion enter the Force around him.She sensed _hope_ —muddled with hesitation, oozing with uncertainty—but it was there. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he refrained from doing so.

Ahsoka grabbed her lightsabers before she leaped into the air, grabbing onto the side of the Phantom and climbing inside, her thoughts were muddled, her body overwhelmed from the battle. She released her tension into the Force, watching from a distance as Anakin got into his TIE fighter. 

Shortly after Chopper sped them out of the tavern, a burst of energy engulfed the area, the explosion flooding over onto the surface and oozing into the air. Ahsoka's heart skipped a beat as she strained her eyes to see if his ship got out in time. 

Ezra came up behind her, confusion written on his features. "Who _was_ that, Ahsoka?" 

She let out a sigh of relief when she caught sight of his TIE fighter flying toward the sky. He was safe. There was still hope.

"Anakin Skywalker."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i shouldnt make this harder than it needs to be
> 
> hooded me: make him call her snips


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rex: do u realize how much trouble we could get in for this
> 
> ahsoka: you don't have to help me-
> 
> rex, already starting to do the thing: no no im gonna

When the Ghost finally landed at the base, Hera and Zeb hurried Kanan to the makeshift medical bay to patch up his eyes, leaving Ahsoka to sort through her thoughts on the landing platform. Ezra and Rex stood to the side, watching as she walked back and forth, tracing an invisible path into the ground.

Simply put: the day had been a whirlwind. 

She was still exhausted from the battles, her muscles throbbing painfully each time she pushed a foot forward to pace; her shoulders ached with tension, torn fibers crying out in defense as she continued to strain them.

Ahsoka had been giving Rex— _and Ezra, for that matter_ —a summary of the mission, trying to recall every detail that she could. She knew she wasn’t them much time to process her words, but she needed to figure out a plan soon. 

Her mind whirled, thinking carefully over the words Maul spoke on Mandalore all those years ago. He tried to warn her of the person Anakin would become. How could he have known? _Why didn't she at least listen?_ If she could have only heeded the warning, she could have helped steer him from the path he was on. 

But she failed him.

And now, she was determined to make things right.

"Hold on, Commander,” Rex tried, causing Ahsoka to momentarily halt. He didn't continue until she turned toward him. “Are you sure it was him?”

“I’m certain. It was his voice, his Force signature...” Her eyes flickered between the two of them at the hesitation in the air. A tinge of disappointment hit her in the stomach. “You don’t believe me.”

“Belief isn’t the issue at hand here.” He pursed his lips, thinking over his next words carefully. “It’s been a long time since the war. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t rule out the possibility that he’s fallen too far.”

She shook her head, stubborn. “I was making progress with him. If I had just a few more minutes, I could’ve convinced him to come with us.”

“He nearly killed us, Ahsoka. How do we know we wouldn’t be feeding into his plan by bringing him here?” Ezra crossed his arms over his chest, a small frown on his face.

"I can't be sure of that," she answered after a moment of thought, "but I know what I sensed in the Force. He still has some good in him."

"Even so, there's no guarantee that he's still the person you used to know," the young Jedi commented. "It's too risky to bring someone from the Empire here— _especially_ with Kanan's injury. We wouldn't be strong enough to handle an inside assault right now."

 _But if he wanted to kill them, he would have done it on Malachor,_ a voice in the back of her head insisted. _It wouldn't make sense for him to loiter._

"Rex?" she tried as Ezra stepped away, and the former captain huffed softly, offering her a sympathetic look. 

"You know I want to, but the kid is right. We can't be sure of his plans just yet."

Ahsoka’s eyes dropped to the ground, deflatedly. She knew bringing Anakin back to the base would be risky—but she _couldn’t_ leave him again. The gears in her brain were spinning, trying to scrape together a plan. There was no way she could take one of the ships without someone noticing, and she doubted anyone in the galaxy would willingly confront _Darth Vader_ beside her. She would be on her own.

As she thought, Rex watched her expression closely, knowing her well enough to guess where her mind was heading. He knew she was going back for him, with or without their help—and although he was hesitant, he accepted that nothing he could say would stop her.

He let out a sigh before speaking again, his voice low and wary, "You’re _sure_ it’s him?"

"I swear on my life," she said. "It's him, Rex. I know it is."

He looked conflicted. "You know I can't help you."

She opened her mouth to speak, only ceasing when he held a hand up, silently telling her to _let me finish._

"But," he started, glancing around the landing platform to be sure his words wouldn't catch the attention of anyone, "if you happen to slip away in my ship, I have no idea where you went."

A smile grew on her face, followed by a short sigh of relief. "Thank you, Rex."

He stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Be safe, Commander."

She nodded at him, her determined expression returning. "I'm going to bring him home."

»»««

Darth Vader stood in his private quarters with an outdated holoprojector resting in his gloved hand. After the encounter with Ahsoka, he felt unsettled—an unshakable sense of uncertainty, the crushing weight of ambivalence.

He brushed away the dust collected on the top, feeling along the side for the green power key. When he found it, he turned the switch and listened as the machine whirred, sputtering and spitting dust into the air. Eventually, a blue light illuminated the dim room, followed by a screen that flickered in front of him.

He took a deep breath before swiping through the array of different logs and records. Most of his logs were for Padmé—she insisted that they documented pleasant experiences during the war to remind them of the good, and it quickly became a habit, one that helped him cope with the heaviness that followed him after a battle. He flicked his wrist, scrolling through the hundreds of logs kept on file. Some were of Rex, some of Padmé, some of Obi-Wan. If someone was close to him during the Clone Wars, there was a good chance you could find their name hidden within the listings.

Suddenly, his hand stopped, fingers curling back into his palm.

**_Data Entry #326, Tano, Ahsoka._ **

He stared at the caption, his shoulders filling with tension and his stomach beginning to twist. A wave of apprehension crashed over him as he reached out, hesitantly selecting the message. The blue disappeared for a moment, darkness flooding the room in its absence, before it flickered once more, reappearing with a familiar figure.

 _“What's this, Master?”_ The holoprojected version of Ahsoka tilted her head to the side. She was wearing her traditional Padawan uniform, looking into the hologram curiously. Judging by her appearance, he guessed the recording was taken shortly after their first mission.

_"This, my young Padawan, is what we call a hologram.”_

Vader cringed at the sound of his voice. Although his body was hidden from sight, he was sure his past self was smiling.

She rolled her eyes, a small grin growing. _"Obviously," s_ he said, _"I meant, what are you doing?"_

 _"I like to document,"_ he answered lightly. _"You know, remember the good things."_

Vader saw her face soften through the hologram, a teasing smile spreading across her features. _"Aw, see, Master? I knew you loved me—“_

 _"Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head, Snips,"_ he added quickly, feigning annoyance in his tone. _"If you're not careful, you'll become like Obi-Wan.”_

_"Whatever you say, Skyguy."_

The hologram flickered again with a low hum, sending him back to the list of entries. 

A beat of thick silence passed.

He let out a shaky breath, feeling even more conflicted than before. He swore when he joined the Sith that he would never mourn his old life. It shouldn’t have mattered that he once knew Ahsoka; he was trained to kill without a second thought. She was _insignificant_ —a mere remnant of his past. He should have slaughtered her like the rest of them.

But he failed.

Not only did he fail, but he also allowed her and _known traitors of the Empire_ to escape, allowing the rogue Jedi to gain the upper hand. 

_And for what?_

The quietness of the room began to feel suffocating, almost as though the stillness was there to taunt him; to mock his incompetence. News had inevitably spread to the Emperor by then. It was only a matter of time before he had to face the consequences of his deeds. His mind spun in circles, back and forth, giving him every reason he should have killed her and reminding himself why he didn’t. 

He wanted to escape, yet he wasn't sure what bound him. _Was it the Empire? The Dark Side? The Jedi?_

He knew that he didn't like the feeling of someone else's blood staining his hands—something the Empire encouraged when they faced resistance from the masses. He knew that he had grown so used to the sight of destruction that he felt indifferent when he watched the flesh deteriorate from the bones of a former lifeform. 

When did this happen? When did the cold hands of death stop bothering him? When did he become okay with _killing_ _out of his own self-interest?_

Before he was able to dwell on his thoughts further, the door to the room shot open, and his heart leaped to his throat. He turned the holoprojector off in record time and shoved it behind his back, swiftly turning to the figure standing to his left. When his panic subsided enough for him to identify the man, he let out an aggravated huff. 

"Don't you find it improper to barge into ones' quarters without warning?"

"Lord Vader, the Emperor has asked for your presence," Tarkin informed in his signature imperious tone, ignoring his pointed question entirely. “I suggest you hurry.”

He exhaled again, fingers gripping onto the holoprojector behind him tightly. "Of course. I will be there momentarily."

The Grand Moff tipped his head to the side, an irritatingly smug expression on his face. "He did not seem very pleased at your returning empty-handed."

_As if he wasn’t aware._

"I don't believe that is any of your concern," he responded flatly. "Is there anything else?"

As if he couldn't be more vexing, he raised a brow. "Just a humble warning, friend.”

Before Vader had the chance to voice his distaste, the man turned on his heels and walked away—chin held high, hands folded and resting on the small of his back. 

_Force, he hated that guy._

When the door to the room finally sealed shut, Vader let out a breath, pulling the holo forward. He lowered himself down to one of the steps of his meditation chamber and shoved the device deep into the shadows, his hand stilling brushed against another item under the panel. He nearly winced as he pulled it into the light.

Ahsoka's lightsaber.

The Siege of Mandalore. The crash site. A tinge of emotion jabbed him in the chest as he loosely rolled the lightsaber around his palm. Despite knowing it was unlikely for her to stay true to her word, the thought of seeing his former apprentice again unnerved him.

With a sigh, Vader shoved the lightsaber back into the darkness, a sense of dread fixing itself on his shoulders at the thought of going before the Emperor. He needed to focus. His mind whirled, trying to muster up as many rational excuses as he could. He needed to be prepared and able to respond quickly—preferably _without_ thinking.

Vader moved off the stairs, walking to the circular platform in his quarters. When he stepped into the center, a familiar white light flared beneath his feet before a figure flickered to life in front of him.

He bowed, his forearm resting on his right knee, and his left hand grazing the ground for balance. 

"Master."

"Lord Vader," The Emperor addressed his presence. "Word has gotten to me that you did not succeed in capturing the two Jedi I requested."

"My apologies, Master," he paused, looking up at the holoprojected version of the Emperor. "Unfortunately, it seems that Darth Maul has once more resurfaced. The Jedi had aided him in accessing the Sith Holocron on Malachor."

Darth Sidious hummed. "It is impressive that he persuaded the Jedi to assist him."

"Indeed," he said. "Their alliance resulted in the deaths of my most valued Inquisitors."

"My condolences." Despite his words, the Emperor’s voice was void of any sympathy. "Find him immediately. There’s no telling what he’ll do with the Holocron—especially if he’s antagonistic toward our cause.”

Vader pushed back the small voice that wondered if _now was the time to tell him that Maul wasn’t the one that left with it._

“I will see to it that we capture him as swiftly as we can.”

»»««

Rex was a good soldier. 

He followed orders, he knew how to react under stress, he tried his best to never leave a man behind; he was a suitable captain for the 501st. After the war came to an abrupt stop, however, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He learned how to adapt to quietness and monotony. It only took a few cycles for him to discover other clones that outlived Order 66. He found Wolffe first, hidden away in the Utapau system, then Gregor on Abafar. He heard whispers of other survivors, but they all led to dead ends. After a while of searching and coming up short, they decided to go dark on Seelos.

When Ahsoka told him about Skywalker, he wasn't sure what to think. He was certainly relieved that his former General was alive—though, given the circumstances, it was fair to say that he was skeptical. 

But he trusted Tano. She was one of the finest soldiers he had ever fought beside. If she said there was hope, he would stand with her. 

"Rex?" He snapped his gaze to the door, watching Ezra enter the Quonset hut with a confused expression. "Have you seen Ahsoka? I’ve looked all over for her."

"Oh, Ezra. Good to see you.” He cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, no. I have not seen the Commander. Have you checked the northern outpost?”

"I already checked all of the outposts. No luck. It's like she just vanished." Ezra kicked out a chair and sat beside him, a grimace crossing his features. "Do you think she's okay? I feel terrible for shooting down her plans earlier."

He gave a weak waving gesture, averting his eyes to the large map rolled out across the table. "I'm sure she's fine."

The boy sighed. "As difficult as it was, I still think we made the right call. We can't endanger our team over something like this."

Rex nodded, trying his best to keep his expression neutral—but apparently he wasn't as convincing as he tried to be, because Ezra tilted his head to the side. 

"Are you okay, Rex? You seem jumpy." 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, a little too quick for his own liking. The Jedi raised a brow, and guilt seeped into Rex’s conscience. "All right,” he sighed. “I do know where she is."

Ezra perked up. "Where?"

He cringed. "I think you know, too."

A moment passed before realization dawned on the teen's face. "Oh, Rex, seriously?" he groaned. "What were you thinking?"

"Listen, I know it sounds crazy, I do," Rex paused, “but if Commander Tano thinks she can get through to him, we have to have hope that things will work out."

Ezra didn't look like he was buying it. "Are you sure it's a good idea?" 

The former captain sighed, looking back to the map. "We have to let her try."

»»««

Vader stepped out of his quarters with his newly restored mask.

The meeting with the Emperor went better than expected—though, his expectations were quite low. At the very least, he managed to buy himself some time to think. His boots clicked against the dark, glassy floor, footsteps echoing off the quiet halls. 

Then, Vader began to hear muffled noises coming from a blast door to his left. He stopped in his tracks, jolting when it shot open with a hiss, revealing a group of wounded troopers on the other side. They stumbled through the door—some leaning on each other for support, others limped through the doorway on their own. A few had their helmets lifted with their armor littered in black markings.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"A code eight-nine-five, sire, on the main landing platform,” a trooper explained, seeming startled at Vader's presence, "but worry not. We got the situation under control."

He paused. "A Jedi?" 

_Surely it wasn't her. Ahsoka wasn't that stupid._

"A togruta, my lord," another trooper piped in.

_Maybe she was that stupid._

"Where is the Jedi now?" he demanded, pushing down the wave of nausea that made its way to his throat.

"Sent to examination with JT-2496 and CR-7340."

Vader blinked. "You sent them with only two troopers?"

"She... wasn't resisting, sire." The Stormtrooper faltered at his unnerving tone. "After she blew a few fighters, she let us do our job."

Vader took a long few moments to calm himself down, seemingly in a manner that frightened the troopers that stood in front of him. They exchanged looks of panic, none of them willing to move a muscle. 

"You.” He pointed to one of the Stormtroopers near his left. The man straightened his posture, giving his full attention. "Take me to the Jedi."

He gulped, glancing over to his fellow troopers with uncertainty. "Yes, sire."

"As for the rest of you," Vader looked between the men, noting that none of them had any injuries that wouldn't heal quickly. He assumed the only reason they were wounded was because of the explosions in the hangar. “Visit the medical bay. You are not permitted to work until a medic passes you."

With that, the group dispersed, Vader and the handpicked trooper beginning to walk toward the left-wing of the base. As they strolled down the polished halls, he felt his mind begin to spiral again. _What was her plan? Why would she come here?_

"Trooper," he started, quickly getting the attention of the man walking beside him. Ordinarily, Vader refused all forms of unnecessary conversation—but at that moment, he needed something to occupy his thoughts. "What is your number?"

"CM-2933, my lord," he spoke clearly, albeit tensely. Vader guessed the man wasn't much older than he was when he became a Jedi. 

“And, CM-2933, what is your purpose?”

“To do my job, sire,” the trooper stated, firmly. “To restore peace in the galaxy through the Empire.”

 _Peace_ —such a relative term, really. When he was a slave, working rotation after rotation for Watto, peace came when he was with his mother. As a Jedi, peace was a state of mind, only accessible to him when the death toll of a battle lowered; when the same clones that came with him left with him. As a husband, he felt at peace when he was with Padmé in the comfort of their home, hidden away from the intrusive eye. 

“Do you believe it’s possible?” His voice was calm, calculated. CM-2933 looked over at him, and although his helmet covered his face, Vader could tell the question caught him off-guard. “To maintain peace.”

The trooper hesitated. “I hope so.”

There was no more conversation after that. The trooper led him to the interrogation center they sent Ahsoka to, promptly leaving at his request. Vader noticed four keepers standing outside the blast door that confined her. 

"Clear the room. I need to speak to the prisoner alone."

The troopers nodded. "As you wish, Lord Vader."

Once the area was empty, he cut the audio feeds and logged a code in on the keypad. After he entered the final digit, the door sprung open with a hiss, revealing Ahsoka sitting rather casually at the interrogation table. Her head was resting in her palms, drawing his attention to the glowy blue cuffs clasped over her wrists. 

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"What do you think you’re doing here?" he gritted out, and she resisted the urge to recoil at his tone, offering a timid smile. 

"I said I'd come back for you, didn't I?" 

He narrowed his eyes behind the mask in incredulity. She was unbelievable _._ He took in an electronic breath. "You shouldn't have."

"Yeah, well, it's a little late for that, Skyguy," she said, the sobriquet causing him to wince. 

"Do not call me that.” He took a seat across from her. "Ahsoka, the _moment_ the Emperor finds out you're here, you will be killed indefinitely."

"Then we'll leave before he does." Her voice sounded confident enough—he might have bought it if he didn't feel the doubt hovering in the Force around her. It was potent with optimism, but uncertain nonetheless. She wasn’t as sure of herself as she appeared to be. 

"You know I can't." Vader tried to keep his tone impassive, but it was proving to be quite difficult. "I can't just—leave. I have obligations here."

Judging by the way she was studying him, she didn't believe a word he said. He knew he was practically broadcasting his real emotions into the Force, having trouble deciding whether or not he cared enough to hide them from her view.

"There's something else, isn’t there?" Ahsoka tipped her head to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly. It was a rhetorical question—they both knew it. She shifted in her seat before hesitantly speaking up again. “Don’t worry. You can trust me.”

 _Trust_. He let out a scoff that sounded far more bitter than he intended. 

Her eyes softened at that, a feeling of remorse creeping up on her. "I'm offering you a way out, Anakin,” she said. “Do you want to take it?"

The room was weighed down with heavy silence, the dim lights reflecting an eerie glow off his mask. He did _—he really, really wanted to_ —but he knew he couldn't. Not while the Emperor was still alive. Not while he was waist-deep in the blood of innocents. 

"There's no leaving for me.” Vader leaned back in the chair, head hammering with tension. "I've been marked by the Empire. They'll find me no matter where I go."

She blinked. "Marked?"

"They put trackers in my suit," he explained, deciding to focus on only _one_ way that the Empire owned him, "and I can't live without it, so unless you have a solution in mind, we won't get very far."

"I thought that was just a fashion choice or something," Ahsoka quipped. Even with his face covered, she could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. 

He muttered something under his breath, not quite audible enough for Ahsoka to hear through his mask, before speaking up again. "Even if I could get out of it, I'm doubtful we could find a surgeon that wouldn't expose our location to the Empire. If I leave, I will become a fugitive. It would be treason for them not to report it."

She hummed thoughtfully. "What if I told you I have access to a hidden medical facility? We could get you out of that thing before anyone notices you're gone."

"What part of _I can't live without the suit_ do you not understand? It's _impossible."_

"We _have_ to _try,"_ she insisted. "The people I have ties to would be more than willing to help."

He hesitantly pondered.

"I need time to think over your offer," Vader stated after a moment of thought, standing from his chair. He sighed when he noticed the alert on her eyes. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen until I get back. You will be safe in here until then."

She grimaced, the tension in her shoulders dropping somewhat. "I'd like to say take as long as you need, but I'm afraid time isn't exactly on our side." 

He nodded. "I understand."

With that, Vader walked out of the room, every thought in his mind whirling far too quickly for him to process, and he hit a button on the keypad, causing the blast doors to slide shut again. Once it was sealed, he let out a breath.

_And he thought she was bluffing._

His feet tapped against the ground as he paced back and forth, tugging on the seams of his gloves tensely. She risked her life to come back for him, not even knowing for sure whether or not he was interested. 

He couldn’t decide whether she was reckless or ridiculously loyal.

Vader forced his feet to still as he took in a deep breath, wincing at the pain he felt in his lungs.

He could leave.

The option was open to him. If he left with her, he wouldn't have to endure the bitter taste of genocide any longer. He wouldn't have to abide by every command the Emperor gave him.

He could be free. 

He nearly shuddered at the notion, feeling a wave of disapproving thoughts follow shortly after it surfaced. No, the Emperor was the only one he could trust. He saved his life.

_Then why did he feel trapped?_

One foot landed in front of the other, and he was pacing again.

Vader still remembered the horror in the eyes of the young Padawans he slaughtered in Temple. He lived among them—they _trusted_ him—but the Emperor told him it was an act of kindness toward the galaxy. They were dangerous and needed to be contained.

 _They deserved their fate,_ he had decided through gritted teeth, watching himself slice through the bodies, muttering each of their names as they fell.

A wave of nausea hit him as a simple thought emerged in his mind.

_They were children._

Was it possible for a child to be destined to die? Were his actions simply him fulfilling something that destiny had determined long ago? The Emperor spoke for the Force—he was like a prophet, giving instructions to those that couldn't access it themselves. He had to trust him.

_Even if the orders given to him felt wrong?_

Vader blinked a few times, shoulders tensing as the cries of the dead echoed through his mind. He paced, his suit suddenly feeling far too heavy for his unsteady knees to carry, a single, nagging thought hovering in his mind.

_He could start fresh._

There was a new beginning waiting for him on the other side of that blast door—did he want to take it? Could he take it? He certainly didn’t deserve it—yet, Ahsoka was extending it to him.

_What if she was lying?_

She could be a lackey for the Rebellion, sent to lead him right into a trap. If that was the case, he would surely be able to fend for himself.

He stiffened as a quiet, scathing thought came to his mind.

 _Where would that leave him?_

He would be deemed an enemy on both sides of the arena—a traitor by the Empire, a criminal by the Rebellion. Any stability he had would be gone, the power he possessed slipping through his fingertips like grains of sand. Every child he murdered, every blood-curdling scream he caused, every skull he crushed to get to the top—it would _all_ be for _nothing._

But he would be free.

_Was he willing to exchange his power for independence?_

A hesitant glance at the blast door.

Maybe he was.

Vader stopped pacing and took in a breath, his fingers still shaking as he walked toward the interrogation room. He entered the code once more, his body moving on auto-pilot. The doors shot open.

Ahsoka snapped her eyes up to him, her lips parted slightly but not saying anything.

"You're certain your doctors are capable of performing that kind of procedure?" he spoke eventually, breaking the silence.

"Positive," she replied. "I would trust them with my life."

Vader’s heart pounded painfully against his chest at the thought of leaving.

"I will come with you," he stated. "My only condition is that we stop at my chamber before we go. I have something inside that I cannot leave behind."

"Very well," Ahsoka decided after a moment of thought. "You won't have much time, though. We'll have to hurry."

He nodded, and she gave him a small smile.

"Okay, here's the plan..."

»»««

"This is, by far, the _worst_ plan I've ever participated in," Vader remarked, sotto voce. The togruta beside him rolled her eyes as they walked down the halls of the flagship. Her wrists were still confined, though this time, it was intentional.

"Relax, would you? You're stressing me out."

" _I'm_ stressing _you_ out?" he echoed. "Oh, Force forbid I broach common sense."

"I've got it under control," Ahsoka snapped back. "Just follow the plan."

Once they rounded the corner, Ahsoka stood to the side, keeping watch as Vader walked over to the keypad in front of his chambers. He unsealed the room, disappearing from Ahsoka's view for a moment as he stepped inside. After a few seconds passed, he came back with a familiar item in his hands.

"Your holoprojector?" she asked, tilting her head to the side with a surprised expression on her face. He only nodded in response, tucking the device away into his cloak. "All right, we need to get moving if we're going to get the ship out of the hangar."

"Remind me why _your_ ship is so important," Vader said as they began walking again. He put a hand on her back, resuming the position an officer would take when handling a prisoner. "We would cut down so much extra time and risk if we just left in my TIE fighter."

She hesitated. "It's... actually not my ship."

"You brought someone else's ship on a suicide mission?" he deadpanned. "Who in their right mind would let you take their ship _here?"_

"I'll tell you later," Ahsoka mumbled when a company of Stormtroopers marched past them. She held her breath, almost as though she expected the men to question them.

 _"You_ relax," Vader muttered, slightly irritable. "Look at their armor design. None of these men have the clearance to examine us."

"Oh. Right."

"Your ship is likely in hangar 6-C," he stated. "That's where we store enemy crafts—and a Jedi’s starship certainly fits that description—so if my men did their job correctly, we should be able to find it with relative ease."

Ahsoka nodded. They walked into an empty turbolift on the right side of the hall, and Vader pressed a few buttons as the glass doors sealed. The ground shook beneath their feet when it began descending. "We'll need to approve the departure before we leave, otherwise they will try to report it,” he said. “If they don't, we will have at least two rotations before the Emperor notices my absence."

"And if they do?"

He involuntarily winced at the thought. "We won't make it off the flagship."

"Then we'll have to make sure that doesn't happen," she stated optimistically. "Can you gain clearance from the cockpit?"

"I can get us clearance as long as we get there."

The lift came to a halt when they arrived on the selected level, and the doors opened smoothly. As they stepped into the large area, Vader was pleased to see only a few troopers walking around the hangar. 

"There it is," Ahsoka mumbled, pointing subtly to a ship bound down on their left. He nodded, and they began walking toward it. 

Of course, their luck ran out sooner than he expected. They hardly made it halfway before an officer with a grey uniform cut them off, skeptically. 

“Lord Vader, what are you doing with the prisoner?"

“The Emperor has requested this Jedi’s presence,” he responded stiffly. “I’m here to escort her.”

The man raised a brow. “Wouldn’t you prefer to go with the troops in the main hangar? What are you doing down here?”

_They don’t have time for this._

"This is not suspicious," Vader stated, and Ahsoka peered over at him with a weird look. "You will report none of this to anyone. I am still in my chamber."

"This is not suspicious,” The officer repeated, hazy eyed. “I will report none of this to anyone. You are still in your chambers."

Vader nodded before glancing at Ahsoka, extending his hand once more. "And you will grant authorization for the departure of the prisoner's ship in hangar 6-C by request of the Grand Moff Tarkin."

The officer elevated his wrist, keying in a few digits before speaking into it. "Grant authorization for the departure of the prisoner's ship in hangar 6-C by request of the Grand Moff Tarkin."

There was a sound of uncertainty on the other line before a hesitant, "As you wish."

As they walked away, Vader turned to the man one last time. "You will now go check the ventilation system to be sure it is fully operational.”

The man nodded to himself. "I will now go check the ventilation system to be sure it is fully operational."

Without uttering another word, he walked away, leaving Ahsoka in bewilderment.

"That was easy," she mumbled under her breath, glancing to the side when Vader shot her a look.

“We need to leave before anyone else sees us.”

Ahsoka opened the hatch, watching from a safe distance as the panel descended slowly. The sides of the ship were coated with stripes of blue, sharply contrasting the white paint sprawled beside it. He took one more look around the hangar, feeling a lively mixture of trepidation and exhilaration pulsing through his veins.

She turned to him with a small, reassuring smile. "Let's go."

With that, they stepped aboard the starship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way s7 ep11 of clone wars completely wrecked my entire soul....... magnificent
> 
> also ayo just finished writing the outline for this book ! im hoping to start posting on sundays to get into a regular schedule :)
> 
> let me know what you think!!
> 
> (updated on 2/5/21)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ezra: we heard screaming is everything okay
> 
> zeb gesturing to vader: yeah we're fine this dude just did the entire fresh prince of bel air rap and we got excited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT A/N: 
> 
> i decided to go back and rewrite most of chapters 1 & 2 so if you’ve read them before 5/7/20 i would highly recommend you go read them again!! not everything is different so you don’t _have to_ per se but they flow a lot better now and i added a bit of plot stuff
> 
> aight thats all for now, thank u for ur time

"Hold out your hands."

Despite being aware that she wouldn't see it, Vader watched Ahsoka turn on the auto-pilot with a lifted brow. "Why?"

"I need to cuff you before we get to the base," she grabbed the abandoned pair of restraints they stole from the flagship, extending a hand expectantly. 

He looked at her lamely. "I take it your team isn't very fond of me?"

"A bit of an understatement," she mumbled before a look of remembrance crossed her features. "Oh, and I'll need your weapons too."

"All of them?" 

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. _"Yes,_ all of them."

Vader sighed as he unhooked his lightsaber from the side of his belt. After that, he reached into his left boot, pulling out a small blaster. He went from head-to-toe, emptying the weapons into her arms as he went—unloading blasters and blades from places Ahsoka didn't even know could hold them.

After his fifth knife, it seemed the well had finally run dry, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Not finished," he muttered as he detached blades from the sides of each glove before handing them to her. The cycle went on for an unnatural amount of time, but eventually _—thank Force—_ he removed all of them.

“Why do you have all of these?” She spilled the pile of weaponry into an open storage pod with a soft grunt, careful not to let the sharp pieces touch her skin. “Don’t you use a lightsaber?”

He gave what looked to be a shrug. “Personal reasons.”

“Hands, please."

He grumbled something that the mask didn't quite relay but cooperated, offering his hands to her. She clasped the cuffs over his wrists, a dim blue light appearing when they activated. 

"There," she gave him an apologetic smile. "Good to go."

Vader bit back the urge to ask if _him being in cuffs was truly necessary,_ knowing he was already treading on thin ice, and the last thing he needed was to provoke the only person that would defend him when things inevitably go wrong. He returned to the chair beside Ahsoka with a low huff, the restraints already digging into his gloved wrists uncomfortably.

She moved to disengage the auto-pilot, flipping a few other switches before taking control of the steering. They had just entered the dry atmosphere of Atollon, a secluded planet located in the Lothal sector, but that was all he recognized. 

He tried to lean back, wincing when he felt a blunt object jab into his spine. Ah. Her lightsaber. He dimly remembered taking it with him when he grabbed his holoprojector, not quite willing to leave it behind. The weapon had narrowly avoided detection during her search.

His gaze drifted to the togruta beside him as he tried to get comfortable. Despite the tension in his shoulders, he couldn't help but unwind at the calming energy emitting from her. 

A small tug of his mind brought him back to the nights they spent hiding the common area of the Temple past curfew. 

Ahsoka got nightmares quite often—especially at the beginning of the war, or the evenings following a particularly gruesome battle. She would comm him on their private channel to ask if he felt rested enough to talk for a while, and regardless of how exhausted he really was, he remembered never having the heart to turn her down. 

Most of the time, he didn't even know what she was talking about—he just knew that if she needed someone, he was more than willing to risk a few hours of sleep and a scolding from one of the Masters to stay with her. Those were the times they ignored official titles and talked to one another like family. They discussed the things they planned to do after the war with excitement, ignoring the looming possibility that they might not even make it that far. 

That was the horrible thing about war. It didn't matter if they were a child, or if they were a seasoned warrior—it took whomever it could wrap its cold, bloodstained fingers around. That was a taunting thought for him to bare—knowing that someone as young and innocent as Ahsoka could have been slaughtered the next time she charged into battle. 

His hands involuntarily rolled into a tight fist, his stomach twisting as images of the young Padawans he killed flashed in his mind. 

_He was no better than the cruelty of war._

Vader forced the thought down.

At the end of the day, Ahsoka was thrown onto the front lines of a war she knew little about. She was given a weapon and told to swing with no knowledge of the true objective. She fought their battles for the Jedi Council—came back bruised and beaten, sometimes _barely breathing_ —while they watched from a distance, safe and secure, out of harm's reach. It was a grim, unjust system.

Deep down, even as a Jedi, he never blamed her for leaving.

He had still grieved her absence. He had still gone to the place they declared as _their spot_ whenever he needed to think or meditate. He recalled countless times he needed to remind himself that he couldn't call on her for backup during a battle. 

But he never blamed her.

He supposed there was a reason Jedi were not supposed to get attached to anyone. It didn't make their shallow requirements right, but it would have made things easier. They were a team—losing Ahsoka felt like losing a limb. 

_Losing a limb was easier,_ a voice in the back of his mind said, _at least a limb could be replaced._

Vader snapped out of his thoughts when Ahsoka veered to get around a tree coral. He blinked a few times, forcing himself to concentrate and nearly forgetting about the cuffs on his wrists until he tried to move again. 

"These restraints don't work on me," Vader decided to break the silence with a huff. He watched her, narrowing his eyes when she didn't react to his statement. "And you seem to know that. Yet, I don't feel any anxiety in the Force around you."

Ahsoka glanced over to him hesitantly at the tacit skepticism in his voice.

"The Force flows darker around those planning to kill," she explained, her grip on the wheel tightening just enough for him to notice. "I haven't felt that around you yet." 

Vader hummed, tilting his helmet to the side slightly so he could look out the window. "It doesn't bother you that I could kill you," he said, his words sounding more like an observation than anything else. "You don't even care."

She shrugged, her posture relentlessly relaxed. "If you wanted to kill me, I'd be dead by now."

Vader paused, deciding to shift the conversation when he noticed a herd of spider-like creatures gathering below the ship as they flew closer to the ground. _"This_ is where the medical facility is?"

"No," she said simply, and he shot her a cynical glare, feeling uneasy at her words. 

"Then what are we doing here?" 

"We have to pick someone up before we go." He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, "And don't worry. You can trust him."

"Telling me not to worry does not make me less anxious," he grumbled, leaning into his seat and ignoring the uncomfortable pressure the idle lightsaber put on his back. "For your sake, I do hope this isn't a trap."

Ahsoka let out a sigh. “You can feel when I’m lying just as I can with you. If I had bad intentions, you would know.”

“Regardless,” he started, despising the vulnerability he felt at her words because _surely_ he wasn't such an open book. “The more we dawdle, the closer the Empire could be to finding us.”

They flew around a few more plated tree corals. The natural structures towered over the ship, nearly engulfing them in shadows.

“It won’t take long,” she paused before grimacing slightly. “Hopefully.”

“Your confidence is reassuring."

Vader couldn’t tell if she was ignoring him or if she just didn't hear him because she gave no reaction. She took a smooth left turn at a cave, flying roughly ten more klicks before a landing dock came into view.

She gave him a small smile. “We’re here.”

A tinge of anxiety ran up his spine and he shifted, arms beginning to ache from the confining position they were stuck in. Ahsoka activated the landing gear as they hovered above the platform, slowly rotating the ship to face forward. The ground below his feet shuddered for a moment before they touched down.

“Oh, joy.”

She flicked a switch on her right, causing a light to turn green in the middle of the control panel. He heard the bay door open behind them slowly.

“Look, if you’re on the run from the Empire, you’re going to want some allies,” she said as they both stood, "so for your sake _and_ mine, please be on your best behavior.”

He narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth shut, allowing her to grip his arm as they walked through the lowered hatch.

Only as they descended the metal ramp did he notice the small group of people gathered at the base of the ship. Some had curious looks on their faces, but the majority of them were scowling. He felt his skin start to burn under the weight of their sharp stares, strongly wishing to take the cuffs around his wrists off.

He felt Ahsoka's grip tighten.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before an older man made his way to the front. He glanced between the two of them, a small smile crossing his face as he extended a hand to Ahsoka, and _if he didn’t know any better, he might have said the man looked like-_

“Glad to see you back in one piece, Commander.”

_Rex._

Vader’s breath hitched, a pang hitting him in the middle of his chest. His eyes darted to Ahsoka, unable to keep his panic from projecting into the Force. 

_How is he alive?_

She seemed to notice, offering a quick, soothing glance as she shook the clone’s hand that did _absolutely nothing_ to steady his own trembling fingers. Vader curled his hands into a fist, stubbornly willing his hands to still.

The togruta returned the smile. “Thank you, Rex."

“Of course,” The man nodded, and Vader swore he got whiplash at the sound of his voice. Despite desperately wanting to avert his gaze, he forced himself to face forward and look at him. 

Rex had aged since the last time they saw each other. Knowing the clones were bred for battle, he doubted the Kaminoans cared enough to slow their accelerated growth once they passed their fighting age. He had a white beard now, wearing tarnished bits of armor over some torn blacks with a white tool belt around his waist. 

The former captain cleared his throat, seeming uneasy when he noticed that Vader was studying him. “Oh, uh, as you can see, the team noticed your absence.”

Ahsoka nodded and turned to the Twi'Lek hidden within in the group. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I agree,” The woman with a green complexion spoke, finally tearing her eyes away from Vader. “I think it’s best if we go inside.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to speak again before a scrawny teenager cut her off. "Not him." The boy glared at him. "He stays out here."

Vader narrowed his eyes behind his mask, biting his tongue to keep himself silent. Ahsoka gave him an apologetic look before turning to the group. 

"Fair enough," she replied. "Zeb, Sabine, please stay out here with him while we discuss our course of action."

A Lasat glowered as a girl wearing Mandalorian armor moved to stand beside him. _"Gladly."_

Vader resisted the urge to sigh.

_It was going to be a long day._

»»««

The group entered one of the Quonset huts located on the base, the air amid them weighed down with tension. 

Once they got inside, Hera sealed the door shut to give them privacy—but not before Rex caught a glimpse of Skywalker looking deeply annoyed. He wasn't even sure how someone could express emotion with a mask covering their face, but he painted a clear picture. 

Ezra leaned on a table, crossing his arms over his chest. "What were you thinking?" he hissed. "Bringing him here, jeopardizing our team? He could turn on us any second!"

Rex saw Ahsoka's jaw set at his sharp tone, and Hera looked at the togruta sympathetically. "We're trying to understand, Ahsoka, we are," she said, "I just need you to explain."

"I'll explain everything soon, I promise, but-" Ahsoka grabbed an old Republican 'pack from the corner of the room. "For now, we're on a bit of a time crunch."

Rex furrowed his brows. "What do you mean, Commander?"

"His suit is loaded with built-in trackers." She stuffed some items into the white bag. "We escaped undetected, and if all goes well, the Empire won't think to trace us for at least another rotation. When they do, the base's satellite will redirect the location so they don't come near camp.

Hera put a hand over the open 'pack to get her attention with a sigh. "Why do I get the feeling that you're about to suggest something absurd?"

Ahsoka cringed. "I need to take him to Bail to get him out of it."

"Why are you even helping him, Ahsoka?" Ezra pushed off the table, taking a few steps closer to the group. "He's a _murderer."_

Her eyes narrowed. "He was my _friend."_

"With all due respect, Ahsoka, are you sure your feelings aren't clouding your judgment?" Hera asked, her voice soft and her eyes cautious.

She sighed. "You don't know Anakin as I do."

"And, likewise, you don't know _Darth Vader_ as _we_ do," Ezra huffed, starting to head for the door. "I understand you knew him at one time, but he doesn't deserve our help. He's caused too much suffering."

"Wouldn't you do the same for Kanan?" she called out, causing him to halt. 

"That's different."

"No, it's not," she insisted. "Please. If we can _just_ get him to see the Empire for what it really is, he will become one of our greatest allies."

Hera looked hesitant.

"If you don't want to send the whole team, I understand," Ahsoka said. "Just let me bring Rex. We'll take him to the medical bay on Alderaan ourselves."

"Take who?"

Everyone turned at the voice.

Hera walked to his side, putting a hand on his arm to help him stay steady. "Kanan, what are you doing out of bed?"

He waved her off, his eyes covered in white bandages. "I sense a foreign presence. Who's here?"

They all exchanged looks of uncertainty.

»»««

_"He's got cuffs on,"_ Vader recalled one of the two _nuisances_ in front of him saying. _"He can't do anything."_

_If only they knew._

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, resisting the remarkably strong, tempting desire to snap someone's neck. The _only_ thing that kept him from acting on it was the fact that Ahsoka would likely lose what little faith in him she had.

But oh, he thought about it. He thought about it long and hard.

"And what's with the noises?" The Lasat prodded, leaning in _far_ too close for comfort. "Does that thing ever shut off?"

Sabine gave him a look. "Zeb, don't."

"What's that? I can't hear you over the sound of this guy's breathing."

"It's my respirator," Vader snapped, feeling his very last nerve start to spark. He curled his gloved hands into tight fists. "I need it to _breathe_ , you-"

Suddenly, a door opened, and Vader let out a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Ahsoka. 

_Not a moment too soon._

"They're vexing me," he complained as she passed him. "Can we go now?"

She ignored him, turning to the pair. "Thank you both for your assistance."

"No problem," Sabine replied, her smile dropping slightly when she noticed the backpack hanging loosely over her shoulders. "Are you leaving again?"

"I'm afraid so," she replied, and the girl’s eyes flickered over to Vader for a split second.

“Stay safe, okay?”

Ahsoka gave a small smile, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

Rex walked out of the Quonset hut with a backpack of his own, soon followed by three others—two he recognized, one he didn't. The man had gauzes wrapped around his head and over his eyes, leaning onto a cane for support.

Vader saw the four exchange a few words before Rex pulled a helmet over his head and walked over to him. "Let's load up.

_"Good riddance."_

Vader sucked in a breath and turned to look at the Lasat that stood behind him. “These cuffs don't work."

"Oh yeah?" Zeb said, his voice so _smug and irritating-_

He wordlessly snapped the cuffs in half, letting them fall to the ground with a soft _clank_ as the color drained from Zeb's face. Vader allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before walking up the ramp. 

Rex followed him, narrowing his eyes at the mound of weapons. “What’s all this?”

“They're mine,” Vader grumbled and collapsed onto one of the four seats in the cockpit. “Don’t touch them.”

He saw Ahsoka offer some departing words before marching up the ramp herself. She made her way to the pilot position, smiling at Rex as he sat beside her. She unclasped an item Vader couldn't quite make out from her belt, logging in a message.

He leaned forward. "Where are we going?"

"The secret medical facility wouldn't be much of a secret if I told you, would it?" Her teasing smile dropped when he said nothing, the mask staring back at her blankly. "Alright, fine. Alderaan."

Ahsoka logged in the coordinates before closing the bay door. The ship's engine hummed as they rose from the ground, kicking up some loose dirt on the landing dock. 

Rex gave her an uncertain look. "Here we go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is slight crack compared to the other chapters but worry not.. much angst is to come
> 
> let me know what u all think :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leia:
> 
> bail, proudly: please shut up

Bail Organa walked out on his private platform with his daughter at his side, their heads tipped to the atmosphere as they awaited their guest's arrival. 

They waited and waited, and waited some more, and Leia couldn't decide if it was just her being anxious or if Ahsoka was actually late. After a while of fruitless anticipation, she let her eyes drift over to her father, concern blooming in her chest.

"She was supposed to be here by now," she finally blurted out. "Do you think she got boarded again?"

He gave her a look. "Patience, daughter."

"You're right,” the teen nodded, more to herself than to him, turning her attention back to the sky. "She's probably fine."

A short beat of silence passed. 

“But what if she did get boarded?" 

Bail let out a soft sigh. “Darling, don’t worry yourself. Even if she did, I’m sure Ahsoka is more than capable of handling it."

"I know," she said, shoulders sinking slightly. "I'm just a little anxious."

He laughed softly. “Well, it's hardly been that long since you've seen her, Leia,” he said, turning his eyes to her. “I'm sure she has missed you too."

She smiled to herself. "Is she coming here for business, father?"

"I assume so."

"You assume?"  
  
"She didn't specify," he said. "Her only request was to have access to one of our private docks."  
  
Leia hummed. "It must be important, then. Maybe she was afraid the Empire was listening."

Bail couldn't help the proud glint in his eyes as he glanced at his daughter. Eventually, a white ship came into view, approaching them from the north. A relieved smile crossed her face. 

_Finally._

The landing gear kicked out beneath the ship, accompanied by a gust of wind that caused Leia's knees to shudde. She stumbled slightly, and if it weren’t for the small tug at the corner of her father’s mouth, she would have assumed he didn’t notice.

When the ship finally alighted, the hatch lowered and slowly sank to the ground with a soft creak. Leia's eyes lit up at the sight of Ahsoka and Captain Rex walking down the ramp.  
  
Bail softly nudged her toward the ship. "Go ahead."

The teen walked to the ramp with an unusual bounce in her step, meeting Ahsoka halfway and wrapping her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, little buddy," Ahsoka spoke into her shoulder, fondly, “it’s good to see you."

"Good to see you too.” Leia peaked her head out, eying Bail with a small grin. _"Father_ was worried you got boarded again."

Ahsoka laughed softly, craning her head to look at him as well. "I'm sure he was."

He gave a smile before walking up to Rex. The clone had his helmet over his face, his spine straight and hands clasped behind his back.

"Captain," Bail greeted, offering his hand with a smile, "glad to see you alive and well."

Rex shook it, tipping his head politely. "Likewise, Senator."

The man took a step back, surveying the two as Leia and Ahsoka finally broke apart. "What brings you two here?" 

A small grimace crossed Ahsoka's face. She motioned for someone to come out of the ship. Bail's stomach dropped when he caught sight of the man. 

"Lord Vader," he addressed, taking a small step forward to quietly tug Leia behind him. "Welcome to Alderaan." 

Before he was able to say anything in response, Ahsoka cut him off. "We need your help."

»»««

"This way, please."

Rex followed the group down the corridor. He lagged behind them slightly to keep everyone in view, his examining eyes comfortably hidden behind his bucket as he watched Skywalker. Here, where the man quietly sulked near the back of their group, he seemed much more like the General that Rex served alongside during the war. 

It was still very strange.

He remembered the troubling tales overheard from brothers assigned to other Generals. Stories of Jedi that, despite fighting for the same cause as the _501st_ did, overlooked their value—treating diligent, adept soldiers like they were disposable.

But General Skywalker never saw them like that. He fought against the odds to protect as many of his brothers as he could on the battlefield. He stayed with the battalion after missions, helping Kix and Coric tend to the injured. He never called any of them by their number, insistent on knowing each of their names.

He respected them—not as clones, but as _individuals_ —as soldiers that were there to fight with him, through thick and thin. They offered their lives to the Republic, and Skywalker always made his appreciation for their sacrifices known. When a brother fell, he mourned with them. He considered them in his strategies. He cared about them.

Another glance over to the former General.

_What happened to you?_

Rex heard Bail and Ahsoka talking indistinctly, filling the thick air with a jumble of words he couldn't quite catch while the princess slowed her pace to meet his. He tore his eyes from Skywalker to look at the teen, watching as a polite smile crossed her features.

"I've heard a lot of stories about you," she whispered, her voice only loud enough for him to hear. "Of the clones, I mean. My father has told me a lot.”

He winced under his helmet. 

Many overlooked the years that the GAR served in the war. After Order 66, the people forgot how hard they fought. They never knew how many of his brothers died in his arms, looking up at him with dull, lifeless eyes to fix their odds in a battle. They ignored the many lives unfairly lost in the war. 

But he couldn't fault them. 

The clones’ true purpose was to kill the Jedi. It didn’t matter how hard they worked, how many people they grew to love, or how many battles they narrowly survived. They were created to be pawns. 

Rex still remembered the sensation of being controlled clearly. 

It was foreign. Cold. 

He recognized the feeling of his dual pistols in his hands, fingers pressed against the trigger—only this time, _he_ wasn’t the one in control. 

The only satisfaction his blasters ever provided him was knowing that each time he fired, he was bringing the galaxy closer to peace... but there was nothing peaceful about his orders to kill Tano. They went against everything he had ever learned in his short life—loyalty, friendship, honor—but he wasn't the one that decided when to fire. 

His arms lifted against his will, each movement fueled by a rage that didn’t belong to him. His body felt hollow—every rebellious thought in his mind weighed down by four tormenting, painfully familiar words:

_Good soldiers follow orders._

They played inside in his head, repeating over and over like some demented mantra. It grew louder, and louder, and louder until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts—until he _complied._ He fought himself until his strength slipped away from him. From that point on, his vision drifted in and out until Tano removed his chip. He had lost all control. 

In hindsight, he knew he was only carrying out _his part of the plan_ —a plan that he didn’t even know he was involved in, one he would never even ask to be a part of. It was the reason the purpose of the war was obscured from his view. He thought he was fighting for peace, but it was never about peace. It was all just a game. 

It made him feel like he was on Umbara again—like he just ripped the helmet off of a brother, feeling the heat of a wound that his blaster caused. The war was just a distraction from the evil brewing right under their noses.

"Captain?" 

The princess' voice snapped him out of his thoughts with a soft jolt. He blinked harshly, trying to gather his thoughts before turning his head. 

“Sorry, kid. Can you repeat that?"

“I said that it was nice to finally meet you," she repeated, her tone light and cheerful, sharply contrasting the bitter taste that his own thoughts left in his mouth. "I’ve heard that you’ve done some great things for the Rebellion. My father thinks highly of you. I’ve only met one other clone in my life, but you seem to be great people. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been through so much.”

He wanted to focus on the other things that she said—because they were some of the nicest things he’d heard in a long time—but his mind got caught on one sentence in particular.

_One other clone?_

His eyes did a quick scan over the girl with a perplexed expression on his face. She was still young—no older than fifteen standard cycles, he guessed. There was no way she was around during the war. Wolffe and Gregor never mentioned meeting her, either.

Before he was able to ask, they had finally arrived at the medical bay.

The group walked in, filing into the large area one by one. Rex was the last to enter the room. His eyes scanned the grey walls and glowing white lights that covered the ceiling, then the operating rooms lined along the left wall, sealed with one large window each. They reminded him of the bays on Kamino.

"This is where the procedure will be performed." Bail gestured toward one of the rooms. Rex noticed a male figure standing behind the glass, sanitizing some of the tools alongside a medical droid unit.

"Are you sure this will work?" 

If he didn't have the mask on, Rex might have said Skywalker sounded nervous. His posture was weaker than usual, his shoulders stooping somewhat under the weight of his suit. 

"There are no guarantees," the Senator admitted. "However, I can ensure that my doctors will try their best to help."

He hummed. "And who will be conducting the surgery?"

"Ah, yes. Give me one moment."

Bail walked over to the operation room with the man inside, gently swinging the door open and taking a step inside. In the meantime, Rex slipped his bucket off, pulling it to the side to rest between his arm and his hip to get some fresh air. 

Skywalker spoke to Ahsoka as she stood by Leia, a nearly indistinguishable tug of concern written on her brow. Rex knew she was as nervous about the surgery as Skywalker was—for her sake, he hoped it would go well.

He let himself glance over to the glass, squinting a bit to see both figures as the surgeon turned to meet Bail, finally revealing his face to those in the central area. 

The helmet slipped out of his hands, hitting the ground with a resounding _thump._

Ahsoka quickly looked over at him, clearly startled at the sudden sound. "Rex? Are you okay?"

No, it was just another hallucination—he was sure of it. He opened his mouth to reply, his words catching in his throat as his hands started to shake. Her gaze followed his to the doctor behind the thin glass. 

_"Kix?"_

Skywalker craned his neck to look too, and Rex dimly caught his robotic breathing increasing in speed. Rex turned, his hands raking across his face harshly as tears welled in his eyes.

"That's our royal physician.” Leia watched everyone with a troubled expression on her face. "Do you know him?"

"Commander Tano?" 

A voice rang through the open space, and everyone slowly turned to look at the door. Rex's lungs felt like they were going to collapse at any given moment. His knees felt unsteady, a sick feeling falling over him when he got a good look at his brother.

He was young. 

He looked like he hadn't aged at all since the war. Rex knew it was too good to be true. He felt his stomach sink and flip at the same time, each of his thoughts overlapping each other.

No. No one else would see him if it was in his head. It had to be real.

Ahsoka was the first to react. Her eyes were wide as she stepped forward, embracing him into a tight hug.

"Kix, you're _alive.”_

"Oh, it’s so nice to see a familiar face," His brother mumbled back, pulling back with his hands still lightly gripped around her shoulders. "It looks like you've grown up, Commander."

Rex could barely get his mind to focus on the exchange, unable to stop the endless volumes of _who, how, what, where_ that echoed through his head.

She looked at him, grabbing onto his forearms. "But you haven't."

"A stasis pod," he blurted out. "I was in a cryo-chamber. How are you alive? I thought—I thought they had all of the Jedi killed. How did you make it out?"

Ahsoka looked over at Rex, and Kix's eyes followed, eventually landing on the helmet laying haphazardly on the floor. He studied it from afar, noticing the distinct patterns and jaig eyes painted onto it.

"Rex?" he asked, a grin blooming on his face when the older clone nodded. Before his mind had time to process, Kix wrapped him in a hug, laughing tearfully into his shoulder. "Oh, _kriff._ I thought I was the only one left. It's so good to see you."

"You too,” he managed, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over and swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forced his thoughts to still, shaking his head slightly as he tried to collect himself. "What happened to you? I thought you went AWOL after Cody was injured. We never saw you again."

"What? No, I—“ He blinked a few times to recall the memories, furrowing his brows. "I found something. Or, more accurately— _Fives_ did. Something about the chips the Kaminoans put in our heads. When he went down there with Tup, he found a kark-load of suspicious information. He put it in his files, and I found all of it."

Rex felt a pang of emotion hit him in the chest at the mention of Fives.

Kix sighed, a guilty glint in his eyes. "Before I could tell anyone, someone somewhere must've found out I was onto them. They tried to send me to the Seppies."

"It seems that didn't go as planned," Bail said, and Rex startled, nearly forgetting the reason they were there. "My men found him in the wreckage of one of Count Dooku's ships on Ponemah Terminal a few cycles ago."

_Stasis pod… cryo..._

"You weren't awake when the orders were released," the clone realized. "Your chip was never activated."

His brother nodded. "I removed mine shortly after I came out of cryo. But that doesn't explain how you're here."

"Fives. He told me about the chips before he—" Rex paused abruptly, his vocal cords unwilling to complete the thought. He struggled to keep a neutral expression as a feeling of sorrow resurfaced. "Commander Tano returned for one last siege on Mandalore. She managed to get my chip out before the ship went down."

"Was there—are there any others that survived?" Kix asked, a hesitant glint of optimism in his eyes. "What about Jesse? Is he alive too?" 

Rex exchanged a dismal look with Ahsoka. He wished they could say Jesse went peacefully—but they would be lying. Kix read their expressions, giving a halfhearted nod, and Rex felt relieved that he didn’t have to go further into detail. 

Ahsoka noticed the heaviness in the air, stepping forward and putting a gentle hand on Kix’s arm. After a moment of silence—one that served as an unspoken tribute to their fallen brothers—he seemed to finally notice the mechanical breathing coming from the corner of the room. 

His posture suddenly stiffened, his eyes widening as he slowly turned around. Once his eyes landed on the figure, he paled. "Rex, is that _Darth—“_

"That's Skywalker."

The clone blanched at his words, raising both brows in confusion. Rex couldn't begin to imagine how strange all of this must be for him—but they needed to concentrate.

"Bail tells us you can help," Ahsoka began hesitantly. "We need to get him out of that suit."

His brother gave an unsure look.

"May I?" Kix gestured toward him hesitantly. After she gave a nod of approval, he gulped, looking up at the threatening mask. "General."

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever you say, sir," he said as he began to circle him, carefully examining the suit with a quizzical expression. "That's cybernetic armor. Do you have injuries underneath?"

He gave what Rex assumed to be a shrug. "Shriveled lungs, lost limbs, and burns."

Kix grimaced at the list. 

"Can you do it?" Rex asked, watching as his brother's brows furrowed.

"I'll do the best I can," he turned to the Senator. "I will need supplies, though. Prosthetics, synthetic organs, an internal breathing apparatus—anything you can find, send it down here."

"Of course, doctor.” Bail gestured for a guard to fulfill his request. The man nodded once before leaving the room. "You will be working with a limited time frame. How soon can you perform the surgery?"

"We can start as soon as the materials get down here, sir."

Rex crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from fidgeting. "How long will it take?"

Kix raked a hand through his hair, puffing out a breath. "With the extent of the injuries, it's hard to say for certain."

"We only have a rotation."

His brother gave a burdened look at his words, pursing his lips. "Rex, a surgery like this—he will require hours in operation and even more time to recover. You won't be able to move him for a few rotations, at least."

Rex glanced at Ahsoka, noticing her posture tense at his words. Skywalker didn't seem too hot either.

"If you don't mind my asking, what is the hurry?" Kix inquired, looking between them before his eyes landed on Rex again. "Surely you know a procedure like this can't be taken lightly. We were all taught basic medical aid on Kamino."

"Of course I know the risks, we just—" he paused. "Skywalker has trackers built into his armor. We're on the run."

A look of disbelief. _"You're_ on the run?"

Rex opened his mouth to retort, but Kix held a hand up. "You know what, this might make my job easier," he mumbled, putting a hand over his chin. "At the very least, we can get rid of the suit before time is up. I can continue operating on him after you dispose of it."

“Where can we take it that the Empire won’t trace us?” Ahsoka asked. “We need to find a location that would throw them off our scent.”

“We could throw the suit out in the vacuum of space or something."

Bail narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "Leia, _please,_ this is serious—“

Ahsoka put up a hand, looking at Leia with a glimmer in her eyes. “She might be onto something. Do you have any spare pods?"

He nodded warily. "I'm sure I can find one to offer."

"Are you suggesting we—“

"—cover our tracks," Rex cut Skywalker off. “That could work. Good thinking, kid."

“We would have to be sure they can’t track us back here,” Skywalker cautioned.

“That won’t be a problem,” Bail chimed in. “My men can disarm the tracking units in the pod. The only way they’ll be able to find it is through the suit.”

The door behind them opened, two men rolling in a large cart of supplies. Kix directed them to bring it into the operation room, but before he went inside, Rex gave his brother a fond clap on the back.

“Good luck, brother.”

Kix nodded. “I’m going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kix!!
> 
> i know in the actual canon he doesnt come out of cryo for another thirty years or something but!! i love him so im keeping him. also ahsoka and leia!! we love an unlikely duo
> 
> please lmk what you think :)


	5. Chapter 5

"Please, take a seat, sir."

Darth Vader awkwardly looked around the operation room for a moment before settling on the cold table in the center, watching Kix walking around the room, flipping on various machines, and laying several items out on the countertop that lined the back wall. 

Vader's feet dangled off the ground slightly as he scanned his surroundings, trying to grasp onto any familiarity he could. There were a few machines that he didn't recognize beside the operation table, a large empty crate to his right, instruments that were so clean they _sparkled_ —but nothing that eased his anxiety. 

The past few rotations have blurred together in his mind, each moment feeling _more and more comparable to an unhinged spice-trip,_ and he wasn't sure of much anymore—but he _did_ know that he didn’t like feeling out of place.

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence, only broken when he heard heavy footsteps clank against the ground. He tiredly glanced over at the door right, watching as a 2-1B surgical droid slowly entered the room.

“Lewis, can you perform the weaponry inspection?" Kix asked over his shoulder before giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, sir. It's mandatory."

Vader decidedly disregarded the fact that they named their droid Lewis.

"Ahsoka already took most of my weapons." He felt around the back of his black utility belt, pulling out the idle lightsaber he had hidden. "This is the only thing I have left."

The droid stared at him, blankly. "I am still required to do the scan."

He blatantly ignored it, turning his attention to Kix with the device extended to him. "If I don't wake up, I need you to give this to her."

The clone furrowed his brows at his outstretched hand but hesitantly complied, gently putting the lightsaber into a storage pod in the corner of the room.

“I have to say, sir, it was quite a relief to see all of you," he slipped on some gloves before beginning to sterilize his tools. "I thought for sure that I was the only one in the _501st_ that survived everything."

Though his words were meant to be lighthearted, Vader heard the underlying grief in them. The medical droid started the exam, raising the scanner above his helmet and slowly letting it descend.

“It was strange waking up to a world where the war was over, and where everyone I ever knew was gone,” The clone cleared his throat. “I’m just grateful that Senator Organa was the one that found my pod. I mean, Force only knows where I’d be otherwise.”

Vader’s breathing machine whirred. "I wish it ended differently.”

Kix’s hands stilled. “I’m sorry?”

“The war,” he clarified, “I wish it ended differently.”

Even with his voice modifier, the sincerity in his tone was a little too noticeable for his own liking. He shifted on the operation table, quietly fiddling with his gloves while Kix sanitized the remaining instruments.

"Serving alongside you was one of my life's greatest honors, sir," he admitted, turning his head to look at him. "You were the best general that my brothers and I could ask for."

Vader tried to shake his head, though his helmet prevented him from doing so effectively. "I don't deserve that anymore."

"You do to me," the former medic offered him a small, kind smile. "If it's any consolation—we've all done things we regret, sir. I believe that it's not our regrets, but what we _do_ with them that defines us. We all have the opportunity to make things right."

The way that Kix looked at him made his chest clench guiltily—with eyes holding a certain compassion and understanding that he was wholly unworthy of. Despite everything, he still opposed the ways of the Jedi. It was a corrupt system, in his opinion. One he didn't believe should be salvaged.

But he knew that his views didn't fully align with the Empire anymore. 

_What else was there?_ Did a middle ground exist—one where he could find some peace of mind?

The droid turned the device off after the search was finished. "All clear."

"Thanks, Lewis," Kix said as it slowly stomped to a different corner of the room to prepare for the surgery. The droid powered on a large ventilation machine, and Vader absentmindedly listened to the low buzz it discharged. 

The selfish part of him almost didn't want his humanity back. 

He didn't want to dwell on the memories of the massacres he commenced—the people he killed, the cities he brought to the ground to keep himself on top. He didn't want to feel their blood on his hands without a muddled mind, one that was obsessed with power and disconnected from his soul.

"We will need to begin now, sir." 

Kix's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, a datapad-looking device in his hands. It beeped softly as he extended it toward him, slowly doing a scan over his limbs. 

"I need to find a place to administer the drug into your bloodstream," he explained. When he reached his right arm, somewhere between his shoulder and where his elbow was supposed to be, he let out a satisfied _'gotcha'_ and turned to the droid. 

"Lewis, grab a vein probe. Top drawer to the left."

As the droid followed Kix's orders, Vader tipped his head to the side, eyes landing on Ahsoka. She gave him a reassuring smile behind the observation glass as Kix grabbed a small pair of shears from his medical tray.

"I hope you aren't emotionally attached to that sleeve, General," he said lightly. "Go ahead and lie back. We'll fix you right up, sir."

Vader nodded, slowly moving his legs onto the operating table as he shifted into a lying position. His back lowered onto the metal, helmet making a sharp _clank_ when it reached the table.

The medic grabbed onto his arm gently, sliding one of the blades into a place where the material wrinkled to clip it open. Vader shivered at the sudden gust of wind that hit his skin, watching Kix peel the heavy fabric off and toss it into the large crate next to them. 

Kix took the vein probe and searched his exposed arm for a sufficient spot, a faint blue light emitting from the device as it hovered over his skin. A high-pitched beep resounded once it detected something, and Kix grabbed an alcohol pad to wipe the area clean as the medical droid prepared a syringe. After he was done, he threw the cloth into the trash can, taking the object from Lewis and turning to Vader.

"Just relax," Kix offered as he placed the needle up against his skin. "You'll be out before you know it."

Vader didn't wince at the sharp pain in his arm.

It only took a few minutes for his vision to dim, the world withering away as his eyelids grew heavy. He stubbornly resisted for a moment, not quite ready to sacrifice the little control he held, reeling in a few more breaths before his body gave into the artificial exhaustion.

»»««

_"I have to sort this out on my own. Without the Council, and without you."_

_"You're going down a path I cannot follow."_

_"You were the Chosen One!"_

  
  


Skywalker roused with a jolt.

“You’re awake,” someone breathed from his left, quickly accompanied by the sound of shifting fabric and footsteps. “He’s awake!”

Skywalker blinked a few times to clear his blurred vision, wincing when he felt someone lightly push his shoulders back. 

"Easy there, General," they spoke again, and although their face was still fuzzy, he immediately recognized their voice. "Don't try and strain yourself too hard."

"Kix, what happened?" he murmured, lifting a palm to his temple. "Did we—the surgery, did it—" 

The words died in his throat as a thick wave of exhaustion crashed over him. His limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, joints grating painfully with every movement. 

"Should we call in a transport for him?" He heard Rex ask.

_A transport? Why would he need a—_

"Master." There were two snaps in front of his face, ones he could feel more than hear. He winced. "Can you hear us?"

He forced his eyes open, the fog in his vision finally beginning to fade as a pained noise escaped his throat. He blinked harshly, trying to clear his muddled thoughts when he felt a gritty substance seep into his clothes through the open seams.

 _Force, he hated sand, he_ —

His movements paused as his mind slowly became more conscious. 

There was no sand on Alderaan.

"Please, allow him some leeway, Ahsoka," a familiar Coruscanti accent echoed in his ears, causing every fiber in his body to go rigid. 

_What?_

The voice got closer, more gentle. "Anakin, are you all right?"

Ignoring the way his muscles strongly opposed the action, he tipped his head up to the man standing above him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 _"Kriff,"_ he swore through gritted teeth as he tried to push himself away. His eyes flickered around his surroundings, confusion pooling in his mind. He was in a camp. Why was he in a camp? Why was _Obi-Wan_ there? Where was—

"Hey, hey, take it easy, sir.” 

He turned to see Rex with his palms gently extended toward him, gesturing to _calm down._ Skywalker only stopped once he caught sight of the man's appearance. He was young. How was he so young? _He didn't look like that when he went under_ —

Kix, who now had a shaved head that exposed his tattoos, waved over another clone. "Echo, can you grab some rations for him? He's probably starving."

"Of course, sir."

Skywalker twisted his head to see Echo begin to rummage through a Republican backpack, his mind whirling. 

What was going on.

"Kix... the surgery," Skywalker managed, turning to the medic with an anxious look in his eyes. His voice sounded weird. "What happened?"

He furrowed his brows in perplexity. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't follow."

"The _surgery_ to—" Then he paused, eyes widening. He shifted to look at his covered hands, flipping them front and back before he ripped one of his gloves off.

His hand was still there. 

_What was going on._

"Master, you're not making any sense." He glanced over to Ahsoka. She looked too young. "Do we need to call a transport?"

Echo handed Kix the rations, not bothering to conceal his concerned gaze. Skywalker instantly noticed the lack of metal caps and tubes drilled into his head.

"He doesn't look too hot, vod," Fives commented as he crouched beside him, but Fives shouldn't be here, because _Fives is dead_ —

Dead. Was he dead too? Did he die during the surgery? Was this some sort of afterlife?

He glanced between the people in front of him. 

_It didn't look like any afterlife he deserved._

"Any progress with General Skywalker?" He whipped his head around to see Jesse jogging toward them.

"We're not sure yet." Kix glanced back over at him with a concerned look in his eyes. "General, do you know where we are?"

He looked around, trying to find something that looked familiar to him. GAR tents. An idle firepit. Sand, lots of it. Oh, that reminded him, it was seeping in through his _boots_ —

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't tell."

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchanged a look that Skywalker didn't bother acknowledging as he unsteadily rose to his feet. When his knees shook, he gritted his teeth and forced them to still, stumbling back a step or two before he was able to regain his balance.

Kix made a noise of disapproval. _"Sir,”_ he hissed, “you are in _no_ condition to walk right now—"

"I'm _fine,"_ he growled back, knowing he was lying through his teeth when the ground began to sway, a surge of nausea threatening to knock him over. 

Obi-Wan extended a hand to help him, only halting when Skywalker flinched away in response, screwing his eyes shut. He heard the man hesitantly move away before he slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun that harshly beamed down on them.

Ahsoka folded her arms over her chest, worriedly. "Master, we're just trying to help you."

"I don't need _help,_ I need to know what's _going on_ —"

All of a sudden, an explosion rattled the ground, causing all of them to stumble. Rex quickly put his arm under Skywalker's shoulder to help him stay steady, alarm in his eyes.

"Incoming!" A trooper called from the other side of the camp, nearly muted by the sound of marching battledroids upon the horizon.

Rex looked out onto the field, watching soldiers draw their weapons. "Battle stations!"

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan ignited their lightsabers, both easing into a combative stance as the clones got to their posts. Other than the portable Republican shelters, the terrain was level. There was no cover.

Then, blasters began to fire, red and blue bolts hurling as Rex ushered Skywalker to the closest thing they had as protection. The captain shoved his helmet on, taking out his dual pistols to fire.

 _Why were they being attacked at their camp? This wasn't right. This wasn't_ —

His head pounded at the sound of battle, and he subconsciously reached to his belt to draw his own weapon. The lightsaber he grabbed wasn't the same one that he expected, though—it was the one he used as a Jedi.

A bolt blew past him, narrowly avoiding his head, and he quickly decided it would have to do.

Skywalker took a breath before pushing a leg forward, slowly rising to his feet. Though the ground still swirled, he was able to get his bearings. He ignited the lightsaber as he made his way over to where Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stood, the blue beam making him wince slightly. 

He deflected a few loose shots and swung his lightsaber in sync with the sound of the blasterfire, his muscles aching painfully with every swipe.

"Good to see you're back to normal, Master." Ahsoka offered a smile that quickly turned into a grimace as she Force-pushed a droid away.

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, his eyes not leaving the battlefield. "You had us worried for a moment there, Anakin."

Skywalker couldn't find the words to reply, so he didn't. He pushed forward, slicing through a group of overzealous battledroids with an ease that he forgot existed. Up ahead, he could see a line of Separatist tanks forming.

He held his saber up with a scowl, planting his feet in between Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. He _still_ didn't know what was going on—all he knew was that troopers were falling, and he had a deep-rooted instinct that forced him in front of them. They cut through a company of commando droids, the heavy metal chunks falling to the sand with each slice of their blades. 

The tanks were no more than a klick away when he heard something behind him—a soft, barely perceivable whisper of his name. He craned his neck, glancing around the camp in search of the source.

"Master, what are you doing?" Ahsoka grunted as she decapitated a couple of droids. "We need you to cover your flank!"

 _"Anakin,"_ the voice spoke again, this time more forceful. She repeated his name, her tone growing more and more anguished each time, and Skywalker could no longer focus on the battle.

_That was his mother's voice._

His mind suddenly, _abruptly_ became muddled, the pained sounds of combat fading into the distance as he pushed a foot forward. Every desire to aid in the fight had vanished. The world swayed, red and blue lights that he didn't care to acknowledge blurring at the corner of his eyes. 

Her voice was coming from the tent. 

_He needed to get to her._

Rex suddenly appeared beside him. "You won't like what you see, sir."

He looked at the captain, watching as his helmet started to warp unnaturally—blue paint started leaking onto the black eye guard as the rim began to unhinge—but his mind didn't process it. The only thing he could think about was his mother.

_He needed to see her alive._

Rex began to wither away as Ahsoka came into view.

"Master, you need to stop," she begged, her voice becoming high-pitched and distorted. Her face looked smudged. "Please, don't go in there."

His brain couldn't keep up. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. That was all he wanted. He needed to see her safe. His legs burned as he continued to trudge toward the shelter, feeling a tug on his soul that pulled him toward it.

There was an explosion on his left that sent a few troopers flying into the air, each landing with a sickening crack that his mind didn’t fully register. If he was conscious, he would have checked for survivors.

"Anakin, _stop."_ Obi-Wan finally stepped in front of him. He looked hollow, his words reverberating around him. "You cannot go down this path."

"She's in there," Skywalker managed, blinking harshly in a futile attempt to clear his dazed mind. "I have to get to her."

His former master grabbed onto him. "It's not worth it."

Skywalker pushed his hand away, wincing as Obi-Wan's nails tore into his skin. He finally ripped the cover open and stumbled into the tent, the sight inside hitting him like a pot of cold water when it fully cleared in his mind.

It was empty.

The pain in his arm seemed to jumpstart his senses. His eyes flashed, his knees beginning to feel unsteady as his trance wore off.

His mother wasn't there.

His legs buckled at the realization, mind going blank as he fell to the ground. He leaned forward, hitting the dust beneath him with curled fists. _No, no, no._ His head fell into his hands, fingers harshly pulling at his hair as an agonizing sob was ripped from his throat. 

He mourned until he heard another voice calling for him outside, causing him to lift his tearstained face. 

"Ahsoka?" he murmured. Skywalker walked out of the tent, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach when he realized he wasn't in the camp anymore. 

He was in a village.

The sky had darkened, the only source of light coming from the flames that rose from the small huts. He saw Stormtroopers dragging people away in the distance, and he felt the wind of an Empirical shuttle overhead, puffing a thick layer of smoke toward him.

When the haze finally cleared, Skywalker finally noticed the myriad of bodies scattered across the dirt, lightsaber marks engraved deeply into their skin.

He knew this village.

He was the one that burned it down.

Skywalker shuttered in a breath, his eyes watering at the sharp stench of death that invaded his senses. Without his mask on, nothing protected him from the putrid smell of smoke and molten flesh. He scanned the area before his eyes landed on a figure—a child—wailing as she stood over the pile of ashes that was once her family.

His thoughts stalled when he heard the sound of mechanical breathing behind him, all of the color draining from his face. _In, out_. He slowly turned, watching Vader approach the child.

Skywalker mumbled unintelligibly to himself—a shaky mantra of _no, no, no, no's_ —because he knew what happened next. He wanted to stop the scene from playing out in front of him, but he couldn't move. His feet were planted into the dirt like cement. 

_"Please, help me,"_ the child whispered, her eyes wide with fear and her voice broken, and oh, so familiar. _"Please, my family, they—"_

The girl froze as a lightsaber was ignited in front of her, and Skywalker flinched when his past self brought his arm up to swing. All he could do was look away, closing his eyes tightly as the sound of a _slice_ echoed through his mind.

Before he was able to do anything else, the soil shifted beneath him, the ground beginning to swallow him up whole. He clawed at the dirt desperately to fight against the landslide that dragged him down, his mind spinning, trying to _understand._ He realized that his efforts were futile when he only continued to slip away.

The next thing he knew, he was writhing on the black sand of Mustafar, looking up at his old Master with gold-tinted eyes. He cried out at the unexpected sensation of _burning, and stinging, and shock_ that hit him all at once.

 _"You were my brother, Anakin,"_ Obi-Wan bellowed, but Skywalker couldn't focus on anything other than the revolting smell of his own burning flesh. _"I loved you!"_

His mind whirled, pain clouding all of his senses. It was overwhelming. Smoke and sulfur infiltrated his lungs, causing his already strained breath to come out in short gasps. Steam emitted from the ocean of lava at his feet, each movement he took to climb the embankment only serving to thrust him closer and closer to the searing heat.

His vision began to dim, and he felt his consciousness slowly fade away. He struggled against it for a moment more, but after his clothes caught fire, he succumbed to the darkness.

»»««

Ahsoka Tano stood at the window, observing the operation with Bail Organa by her side. 

There were tubes and machines all around Anakin—some plugging into the suit, others reaching into his skin directly. His helmet had long been discarded, hidden away in a large crate beside other pieces of his suit that Kix had carefully stripped away. He had a breathing tube shoved down his throat, the machine whirring quietly on his left.

“I don’t understand," she broke the silence hesitantly. "Kix has been here for _three cycles,_ and you’ve never thought to mention him?”

Bail shook his head lightly. "I suppose we've been a little too busy trying to lead a rebellion that it's slipped my mind."

"And you wonder where Leia gets her mouth," she mumbled, feeling the joke fall flat when he shot her a disapproving look. Accepting the defeat, she turned her attention back to the operation.

Despite most of his features being covered by his surgical mask, she saw Kix knit his brows in concentration as his hands worked on prying off his armor. 

"His abilities have certainly improved," she noted. "I remember hearing of him performing a few emergency surgeries during the war, but they were never anything like this."

He hummed. "We offered him some education after he recovered from cryo to advance his practice. He is a quick learner. He got through the program faster than anyone we've ever seen."

Ahsoka overheard Rex quietly recall memories to Leia in the waiting area behind them, listening to the faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor as Kix removed another plate of armor.

Then, rather abruptly, the steadiness disappeared.

She glanced at Bail with a concerned glint in her eyes before punching the intercom. “Kix, what’s happening?”

The clone didn’t respond. 

She tried again. “Kix? Is he okay?”

"His brain waves indicate that he’s in a state of distress, but nothing is showing up on our scanners,” Kix finally replied, his voice a mix between bewilderment and panic. “Lewis, inject him with a stim.”

The gears in the droid’s hand rotated a few times before landing on a metal syringe. It pierced Anakin's partially exposed arm, administering the drug into his system. The sporadic beeping was suddenly replaced by a single, high-pitched tone, and Ahsoka dimly noticed Rex usher Leia out of the room as she pushed past Bail to get inside, her chest clenching with anxiety.

Kix gritted his teeth, punching some buttons on a machine. “We’re _losing_ him.”

Ahsoka's breath stuttered as she looked at Anakin, instantly hit by the waves of distress spewing in the Force around him—a cold clash of life and death beneath his skin. Instantly, she sensed that his soul was still there, fighting and struggling against the death that tried to encompass him.

Bail urgently tugged on her arm. “Ahsoka, please, you can’t be in here.“

“Let me help,” she blurted to Kix. "Please, I—"

He gave a solemn, sympathetic look. “Sir, there's—there's nothing we can do. His heart has already stopped beating."

She shook Bail's hand off of her shoulder. "I can feel his soul fighting," she insisted. "Please. Don't let him go yet." 

"Let her help." She turned her head to see Rex in the doorway, his shoulders bowed with worry. "That's an _order."_

Kix hesitated before letting out a breath, nodding as he stepped to the side. "Go ahead."

Ahsoka gave him an appreciative look before making her way toward the operation table. She nearly felt sick at the sight of Anakin's pale, withered skin, but she took a breath, pushing down any protesting thoughts as she extended her hands. 

"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me."

A simple prayer. The only one she knew.

The tension in the room was thick, every second dragging by with an overwhelming sense of fear—but she released her burdens into the Force, her brows furrowed in concentration as she whispered. She pressed on, energy flowing from her fingertips to his unconscious figure, praying until her throat felt raw. As long as his soul was still wrestling, there was still hope.

»»««

Skywalker woke up again, a choked gasp leaving his throat as his eyes frantically scanned the room. He panted, chest heaving, forehead sticky with sweat, and a surge of anxious thoughts hitting him all at once. The tension in his shoulders stiffened when finally he realized where he was.

Padmé's apartment.

He blinked, struggling to untangle his limbs from the expensive linens as he hastily looked over to her side of the bed. Empty. Skywalker puffed out a breath, kicking his legs out to the side of the bed, and shivering when his feet hit the cold ground. He forced his mind to still, reminding himself to take deep breaths. He counted to ten. Then back to zero. Then to ten again.

It did nothing to settle the gross feeling in his chest.

His eyes flickered around the room. It was just as he remembered it, every simple detail the same. He felt a gentle tug that urged him toward the blast door, and he hesitantly stood from the bed.

Skywalker walked the halls that felt too familiar to be artificial, each item he saw bringing him a bittersweet sense of nostalgia that he nearly forgot existed. Once he reached the common area, he allowed himself a moment of stillness as he studied the room. 

Suddenly, he heard a faint noise coming from the balcony, and his heart sprang to his throat. He whipped around to meet the intruder, only to see—

"Padmé,” he breathed, his heart stilling.

She stood on the open terrace, gracefully gazing off the edge and combing a brush through her hair. His hands started to shake, tears forming in his eyes as his feet brought him toward her. She didn't acknowledge him, continuing to hum an old lullaby.

Something wasn't right.

He lifted his eyes, finally noticing that the usual bustle of Coruscant was completely absent. The sky was empty, leaving nothing but an eerie silence in its place. He slowly looked back over to Padmé. 

She was trembling. Her hand had stilled, her grip on the brush tightening until her knuckles were white.

"Padmé?" he asked, gently reaching out to take it away before she hurt herself. Her eyes snapped up to him—charged with panic, wide and haunting. She reached out and clutched onto his shirt desperately.

"Help me," she choked out, her words nearly unintelligible. His own hands trembled as he tenderly cupped her face.

"I—I don't understand."

Her grip tightened. _"Help."_

Before he could ask anything else, a prayer echoed in his mind. It seemed to bounce off an invisible set of walls, pounding into his brain over and over again until he was forced to step away from Padmé.

_"I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.”_

He held his head in his hands as the voice got louder, trying but failing to ignore it, unable to concentrate on anything else. He screwed his eyes shut as he hunched over, temples hammering painfully each time Ahsoka repeated it.

_“I am one with the Force, the Force is with me."_

Then, everything went silent.

Skywalker cautiously opened his eyes, inhaling sharply when he was greeted with a thick veil of darkness. The only thing he managed to distinguish were the two figures that stood in front of him. He forced his body to still, watching with bated breath to see what would happen next. 

The two ignited their lightsabers—one of the sabers was blue, the other a double-bladed Sith—the dim light brightening the room just enough for him to see a third figure standing in front of them.

His breath hitched. 

He faintly heard the high-pitched beeping of a heart rate monitor as his eyelids began to feel heavy again, his legs giving out beneath him. When the world around him faded away, he didn't struggle.

Everything went black.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo boy this one nearly took me OUT bro
> 
> hope u all enjoyed :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahsoka in chapter one: no one can cheat death lol
> 
> ahsoka in chapter six: *cheats death*
> 
> me: growth

The shrill beep of a heart monitor echoed off the walls, on and on, ear-splittingly _loud_ _,_ and _haar'chak_ , Rex wanted to pulverize that stupid thing. He settled with folding his arms instead, eyes wide and palms clammy as he stood in between Senator Organa and Kix.

Skywalker's body slumped lifelessly on the operation table, emitting a cold that Rex swore he could feel from where he stood, and he forcefully set his jaw, waiting for the fresh wave of adrenaline to pass. Ahsoka’s hands twitched above Skywalker, brows drawn together in concentration as she spoke under her breath.

Rex didn’t even know what Ahsoka was doing. He certainly wasn't a Jedi. He had seen some use the Force during the war, of course—but none of the clones _really_ knew how it worked.

He glanced over at Kix, who shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking disquieted and out of place. When he met Rex's gaze, he leaned in close, lowering his voice so that they wouldn't be overheard. 

“Rex, can we speak outside?"

Rex gave a hesitant look over at the operation table before nodding. The two quietly slipped out of the room, still able to hear the monitor even after the door sealed shut. Kix turned to him.

"We—we shouldn't give her false hope," he whispered, a troubled expression clouding his features as he threw a glance over to Ahsoka. “If she can't—"

"Don't talk like that," he replied sharply.

There was a beat of silence between them. Then a sigh.

"Rex, you have to prepare yourself for the worst," Kix's voice remained barely above a whisper. "I've never seen someone come back from the dead, and Lewis and I have done all that we know to do.”

Rex shook his head, pointedly ignoring the anxiety that weighed on his shoulders and eying Tano through the glass. They can't give up hope. Not yet. Not after she had gotten so far with him. 

"It would take a miracle to bring him back," his brother said after a moment. "And even if you could, there's no telling what it would do to his brain and vital organs. The damage could be severe."

“Then I suppose you’ll have your work cut out for you," Rex pursed his lips stubbornly. 

"That's not how this works," Kix said. "You need to be able to face the reality of the situation with a _level head."_

When Rex's eyes dimmed at his words, he sighed. 

"Look, you know I don't want to be the bad guy here,” Kix said. “I want him to live just as much as you do. The General meant a lot to all of us. But I can't just— _ignore_ what I see. Surely you can understand that."

"Of course I can," Rex crossed his arms, "but if she says she can bring him back, I have faith in her."

"Do you hear yourself?" Kix put a hand on his armored shoulder, brows knit together in concern. "We’re talking about _death,_ Rex. I've tried to be sensitive, but you don't deserve to be lied to. This—" he paused to look over at the operation room—"It won't end well.”

"Lied to?" Rex charged, sharply. "You think Tano is lying?"

Kix sighed, eyes softening despite the hostility they were met with. "No, Rex. I think you're lying to yourself."

Rex was very tempted to bite back in defense, but instead, he forced himself to take a breath. To calm down and think. 

Maybe Kix was right. Maybe he was acting overly optimistic. Rex opened his mouth to offer an apology, but the words caught in his throat at the sudden, faint sound of rhythmic beeping on the other side of the wall.

Kix gave him a weird look. "Are you alr—"

Rex shook his head, shushing him. "Wait, wait, just listen." 

The medic paused for a moment, straining his ears to hear whatever Rex was referring to—and when he finally did, his eyes widened. They both hesitantly turned their heads to the glass. 

The first thing Rex's eyes caught sight of was Ahsoka, looking overwhelmed, exhausted, but profoundly relieved. The next thing he saw was the nearly indistinct rise and fall of Skywalker's chest.

Kix mumbled something under his breath, nearly slamming the keypad to open the door.

"Lewis, check his vitals," he instructed, voice tense and uncertain, and Rex followed hotly on his heels. He resumed his place next to Senator Organa, watching the medical droid closely as it followed Kix's orders. 

When Ahsoka made her way back to their side of the room, her hands still trembling and her steps slightly off-balanced, he offered an arm for her to lean on.

"His heart rate is slightly elevated but otherwise healthy, sir," Lewis said monotonously. "He is still in an unconscious state from the medication."

Kix muttered to himself as he checked the monitor, then Skywalker, then the monitor again. 

"What's the report, doctor?" Senator Organa asked, breaking the silence that hovered heavily in the air around them.

"He's... alive," he breathed, trailing off as he read off of a datapad, brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. He cleared his throat, putting the device face down onto the counter. "We will have to run some tests before we're able to continue the operation. His heart stopped for several minutes.

"Of course," the senator replied. "Please take any additional measures necessary. If you need anything, I will contact my suppliers."

"Will do, sir."

»»««

Darkness. Then light.

Skywalker's face scrunched as he slowly regained consciousness, a dim source of light forming in front of his closed eyelids. Despite feeling deeply exhausted, he shifted, fighting against his fatigue to pry his eyes open. White smeared across his vision, the room spinning and blurred beyond comprehension.

He gritted his teeth, willing his eyes to focus, and slowly but surely, the hazy space sharpened.

"Good morning, sunshine," the sudden voice from his left made him jolt, involuntarily pushing himself into the mattress.

_Kriff, not again. Not again. Not again—_

“Whoa, whoa, hey, relax.”

With a firm shake of his head, he tried to clear his addled thoughts, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. _Think, think, think. Scan your surroundings._ He looked over at the girl beside him. She was still slightly blurred, but he recognized her well enough. Brown hair, white clothes. Bail's kid.

Skywalker let out a small, shaky breath. “Where am I?” he rasped. "What day is it? Where—"

She sternly pushed his shoulders down when he tried to get up. “Calm down. You’re in the recovery ward.” 

He reeled in a couple of forced, pained breaths as the girl walked to the fountain and poured a cup of water. Once she returned, she held it out to him. “Here, drink this. It'll help."

He shook his head. "How long have I been out?"

"Drink first," she insisted.

"I don't want to. Now answer me."

She blinked in offense. "No."

He gave a side eye. "What did you just say?" 

"No," she repeated. "I don’t have to tell you anything. Not until you drink this.”

Skywalker stared her down with narrowed eyes before begrudgingly deciding he was too tired to argue. "Fine," he hissed, "give it to me."

A satisfied expression crossed her features as she extended the mug to him again. He hesitantly drank under her keen eye, the refreshing liquid soothing his dry throat. She took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“I’m Leia, by the way.”

”That’s nice,” he grumbled. “All right, kid, I’ve done my part. Your turn.”

“It’s been about eight rotations since the surgery," she said.

He blinked. _"Eight?"_

Leia nodded, and his grip unintentionally tightened, the coldness of the cup prickling his palms—

He stilled at the feeling, memories of why he was in the recovery ward flooding his mind in an instant. 

The surgery.

For the first time since he woke up, he took a good look at himself. Hands. He had hands. Hands that he could _feel._

He clenched and relaxed his fist, rolling his new fingers into his palms and wiggling them around. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, mind skipping at the foreign sensation. He could still feel the cool durasteel attached to what remained of his real limbs, but on the surface, he wasn't able to tell a difference between the two. 

"They're pretty neat, aren't they?" Leia smiled. "Those prosthetics come from the very best supplier we have."

"I'll be sure to compensate you for your resources," he murmured. 

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," the teen waved him off. "I heard my father talking about it earlier. They're our gift to you."

Skywalker hummed but otherwise stayed silent, tired eyes still examining his new arms with a growing fascination. 

"I'll go get Kix to come and check you out," she said as she stood, making her way to the blast door. It opened with a _shing,_ and she turned to him. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere." 

»»««

“He’s on Tatooine.”

Ahsoka followed Bail down the long corridor, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “In the Jundland Wastes," he said. "Be mindful, though. I heard there was a settlement of Raiders a few klicks away from his hut.”

She stopped walking for a moment, holding a hand out for him to do the same. “Thank you, Bail. For everything.”

“It’s the least I can do to repay you for all that you’ve done for the Rebellion,” he replied. “Remember, this information is strictly confidential. We are among the only ones that know his location.”

She nodded. “Of course. You don’t have to worry.”

They began walking again, their light footsteps echoing off the walls, but before she could say anything more, a loud _crash_ rang through the corridor. They both startled, whipping their heads to the side to look for the source. Ahsoka hesitantly glanced over at Bail. 

"What was _that?"_

The hall was still empty, just as it was when she checked earlier. The ringing echoed for a few more seconds before fading away, leaving nothing but a dull headache in its place.

"I'm not sure." Bail narrowed his eyes. "It sounds like it came from the supply closet.”

She gave a nod and unhooked the lightsabers from her belt, creeping toward the room with her thumbs hovering above the activation switches. Once she stood outside, she leaned against the trim, straining to listen to the faint movements behind the blast door.

 _"Oh, shut me down. You truly are a bungler at their finest, you overweight glob of grease,"_ A muffled voice scolded from inside, and Ahsoka let out a breath. There were a few faint beeps in response, then a gasp. _"Don't use that tone of voice with me! You're the one that suggested we come here. I should report you to Senator Organa for this..."_

She put her lightsabers away and pointed to the door when Bail appeared beside her. "Five credits if he's stuck again."

"Deal."

 _"...Why, you'll be deactivated for sure,"_ C3PO continued, receiving, to his apparent dismay, another few sharp chirps. He grumbled, _"He does_ **_not_ ** _have a soft spot for you! Oh, of all the astromechs in the galaxy I could work beside, I cannot believe I have to—"_

The blast door shot open, inadvertently revealing the culprits behind the crash. Ahsoka's eyes landed on C-3PO, who was caught between a few crates and a shelf, a box of tools and wires sprawled haphazardly across the floor around him.

"What happened here?" Bail asked tiredly. 

"Senator Organa!" The droid greeted and tried to straighten his posture, a movement that only resulted in him sinking further into the slot. He looked at R2 pointedly. "This is his fault, sir. We were on our way to the kitchen to oversee food preparations when _he_ decided that we needed to take a detour."

R2 chirped, and he scoffed.

"That is _so_ how it happened. Honestly, sir, I have never operated beside such a dimwitted, short-circuited droid in all of my years," C-3PO rambled. R2 beeped something in response, drawing yet another appalled noise from the droid. "Goodness me! Would it scrap you to show _some_ courtesy every once in a while?"

Ahsoka tipped her head to the side. "Pay up."

Bail muttered something under his breath as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a few tokens and handing them to her. She turned to the droid after putting them away. "Let's get you out of here, 3PO."

"Oh, Ahsoka Tano!" he gasped. "It is so good to see you."

She gave a smile, outstretching her arm for him to grab onto. After a few tugs, he stood upright again. "Thank you ever so much, Miss Tano."

R2 beeped a few times, asking a question that Ahsoka interpreted with little difficulty.

"Oh, I'm here on business," she threw a glance over to Bail, cringing slightly. "Of sorts."

"Well, your presence is always welcome here," 3PO assured. "Come, R2. The kitchen staff still require our supervision."

They really didn't need any help in the kitchen. Bail only assigned them to that job to get them out of his hair for a few hours each day. She sighed, crossing her arms with an amused smile.

A voice suddenly called from the hallway, “Guys?” 

Ahsoka heard the telltale _tap, tap, tap_ of Leia’s grey flats a few seconds before she appeared in the doorway. "Oh, good, you’re both here. Listen, you need to—" the girl paused when she caught sight of the mess. "What happened?"

"The usual." Bail threw a narrowed glance over to the droids. "What can I help you with?"

“He’s awake.”

»»««

"Eight hours in operation, three rotations inside a bacta tank, and five rotations asleep in the recovery ward.”

Kix stood in front of Skywalker’s bed with a datapad resting in his hands. He arrived with Lewis a few minutes before everyone else, checking his vitals and scolding him as he fixed the IV that he had fiddled with.

Skywalker nodded. “And the suit?”

“Should be nearing the Goazon Badlands, sir,” the medic said. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Rex sat in the chair Leia once occupied. “How do you feel?”

“Like a gunship landed on me," he grumbled.

At his words, Ahsoka cast a glance over to Kix.

“Don’t worry, sir. You’ll be back to normal in no time,” he said, rummaging through a cabinet to grab a bottle with clear liquid inside. He set it on the small table beside his bed. “Remember to apply bacta to your burns three times a day until they fully heal. We will help apply it until you get out of Alderaan, but it’s important to the recovery process that you stay on top of it.”

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. “I’ve done bacta treatments for years. Shouldn’t they be gone by now?”

Kix ceased his movements, turning to him with furrowed brows. “That—doesn’t make sense. Bacta treatments are the most reliable ways to heal burns," he said. "Are you sure it was bacta, sir? Who supplied it?”

He hesitated before answering, “The Emperor."

Skywalker bit his tongue to keep himself from reacting to the look Ahsoka exchanged with Rex at his words.

“I see,” Kix drew before clicking his tongue. “Well, I suppose it could have been a placebo of sorts. Bacta works quickly—you should have been able to tell a difference within the first couple of treatments.”

_That wasn’t what the Emperor said._

Skywalker stayed silent, the thought hanging over his shoulders heavily. If the Emperor was the one supplying the tanks, he could have filled them with anything. Another thought sprung forth, a pang of betrayal hitting him in the stomach along with it. 

_What else has he lied about?_

Skywalker glanced over to Ahsoka.

_He lied about her._

Ahsoka crossed the room to sit on the foot of the bed, wearing a look that assured him that she could sense his distress in the Force. She opened her mouth to speak but paused when she looked at his face, tilting her head to the side. 

He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "What?"

"Nothing, it’s just—“ she paused. “Your eyes. They’re blue."

Skywalker felt his chest clench, her words echoing in his mind. _Your eyes. They’re blue. Your eyes. They’re blue. Your eyes. They’re blue._ Somewhere between the time of their battle and now, the golden layer that tainted his vision must have faded.

Skywalker hadn't seen his real eyes in a very long time. 

"How much longer does he need to stay here, Kix?" Ahsoka asked.

"I would like to keep him in the ward for a few more rotations. Just to make sure everything’s all right. Then he'll need some time in physical therapy to get used to the new prosthetics.”

She gave a nod before turning her eyes back to him. "Get well soon, Skyguy. We have some stops to make once you get better."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction. "Can't wait."

»»««

"Looks like you were right, Rex," Kix admitted, walking to the dining table in his quarters with two cups in his hands. He placed one in front of his chair and the other in front of Rex. "I'm sorry for doubting you about Skywalker."

He waved him off. "Eh, you don't have to apologize. Plenty of times for me to be wrong in the future."

"I take it you're leaving with them once he recovers?" Kix kicked a chair out and sat opposite of him. 

"Where Tano goes, I like to follow," Rex replied. "Keeps some life in my bones."

There was a beat of silence as he took a drink, his throat burning from the harsh liquid in his cup.

"You know," he started, "there's always an extra seat in the ship if you want to tag along.”

Kix's eyes darted over to him, brows shooting up in surprise. He pursed his lips into a line as he thought over his next words, swashing the liquid in his cup around in a small loop.

"Ah, you know I would," he said, "but my place is here with the Organa's. At least for right now."

"Don’t worry, I get it," he assured. "Family is more than blood. Tano is mine, they're yours. I'd never hold that against you."

His brother gave an appreciative smile. "If you ever need a hand, though, you'll know where to find me," he said, his lighthearted expression growing serious with his next words. “Just—don’t be a stranger. Check in every once in a while, will you?”

Rex took another swig of his drink, an idea coming to mind as he thought over Kix’s request. “Well, if you want to keep in touch, I have an old comlink in my ship that I could loan to you.”

That seemed to pique Kix’s interest. He set his drink onto the table with a soft clank. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’ll tune it into the frequency Wolffe, Gregor, and I use. I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear from you.”

Kix gave a small smile as he stood to put his now empty mug into the sink, staying silent until he returned to his seat.

“Try and be careful out there, Rex,” he said quietly. “We’ve lost so many brothers. Too many. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, vod,” Rex reached across the small table to clap him over the shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m holding you to that,” his brother warned.

“I’m counting on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi it’s me again
> 
> sorry it took so long to post this, i’ve been going through a spell of writers block :/
> 
> but don’t worry!! the story is just picking up so strap in lassies it’s going to get crazy
> 
> please feel free to drop ur thoughts below :)
> 
> -
> 
> mando'a translations:
> 
> haar'chak = an expression of frustration


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anakin:
> 
> everyone in unison: stop

_"AV-2313 to command—we are closing in on the pod."_

An operator in the pit held a key on the control console. "Proceed with the tractor beam."

Grand Moff Tarkin walked into the bridge of the flagship, hands clasped neatly behind his back and his lips pursed together into a grim line. Some of the crew onboard had gathered to watch the small carrier retrieve the pod, peering out of the viewports in curiosity as bright blue streaks attached themselves to the grey capsule and drew it into the bay.

_"Pod successfully recovered."_

"Very good," the operator said as the doors closed on the small carrier. "Prepare to receive the welcoming team. Please acknowledge."

The pilot went silent.

The operator held the key again. "Repeat, prepare to receive the welcoming team. Please acknowledge, AV-2313."

More silence. Tarkin narrowed his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

Before the operator could answer, the comms chirped to life again. _"Sir,"_ the pilot started. _"The pod is empty."_

"I beg your pardon?" he bit out.

The pilot hesitated. _"There's armor at the bottom of the capsule, but no one's inside, sir."_

That got everyone's attention. Every eye in the room turned to Tarkin, and he set his jaw. "Bring it aboard the ship," he said. "We will send the pod and its contents to examination."

_"Yes, sir."_

After the comms went dead, he turned with a strained, impassive expression. “Resume your stations, gentlemen. We shall find Lord Vader soon enough.”

Tarkin walked down the narrow pathway again as the crew returned to their work. An officer fell in step beside him. 

“Sir,” he said. "We’ve just received a transmission from the Emperor. He has requested Lord Vader's presence at the new base immediately.”

Tarkin halted at the turbolift. “May I ask why?"

“He wanted to discuss something with Lord Vader personally," the officer hesitated. "Do you think he knows, sir?"

Tarkin didn’t answer.

Once the flagship entered the system, Tarkin stepped onto a shuttle and sat in one of the seats in the back, slinging the harness over his torso as a few troopers marched up the ramp to sit in the cockpit. The sounds of harnesses clicking into place resounded, and the bay door slowly rose. 

_“AV-6165, you are cleared for take-off.”_

The pilot flipped a couple of overhead switches before tapping the comms. “Copy that."

Then, the shuttle was deployed into space, and Tarkin prepared himself to explain Darth Vader's absence. As long as he remained in a high place of command, Tarkin usually felt satisfied with keeping his personal criticisms of Lord Vader to himself—however, were his position to be challenged, he would offer no support. 

The security cam's had rather conveniently gone dark during the time of the incident—but Lord Vader was found to be missing shortly after his former Padawan escaped custody. It didn't take long for him to put the pieces together.

He only needed proof.

A small beep came from the comms once the space station came into view. _“Approaching shuttle, please identify yourself.”_

“This is AV-6165,” the pilot replied before clicking a few buttons on the control panel. "Requesting a landing pad in hangar 2-A. Transmitting the clearance code now.”

There was a brief pause on the other line. 

_“You are cleared for entry.”_

The shuttle eased into the hangar, wings folding up once they touched down. Smoke spat from the depressurization pipes as the bay door lowered, and Tarkin walked down the ramp to find four Royal Guard members at the bottom, their crimson robes sharply standing out among the rows of troops that lined the hangar. 

"Where is Lord Vader?" one of them asked pointedly. "The Emperor did not ask for you, Grand Moff."

"I'm well aware." Tarkin looked around the hangar with narrowed eyes. "Lord Vader was unavailable. I'm here in his place."

The guards stayed silent for a moment, their red masks all turned toward him blankly, skeptically, before they parted through the center, electrostaffs held at their sides. 

“This way."

They escorted him down the long, polished halls of the space station, passing by the occasional few troopers and areas that were sealed-off for construction. Once they reached the throne room, Tarkin kneeled, tipping his face to the ground as the guards resumed their stations around the room. 

“My lord,” he said.

The Emperor's throne turned around leisurely. "My old friend,” he greeted. “What a surprise it is to see you here. Please, stand."

Tarkin obeyed, clasping his hands behind his back once he rose to his feet. "My sincerest apologies for appearing before you without proper notice."

The Emperor waved him off. "You seemed troubled, my friend," he said. "Where is Lord Vader?"

"That is what I wished to speak to you about, my lord," Tarkin paused. “Lord Vader has gone missing. We suspect that the rebel Ahsoka Tano might have had a hand in his sudden disappearance.”

The Emperor hummed. “This is troubling.”

Tarkin nodded in agreement. “I would like to ask for your sanction to open a full investigation. We must get to the bottom of this—“

“Now, now,” the Emperor said, “you needn’t worry yourself. I will send a team out myself to look into this matter. Rest assured, my friend—no stone will be left unturned.”

“Yes, my lord.”

»»««

"Leaving so soon?"

Ahsoka nodded at Leia as she and Bail walked into the landing platform. "I'm afraid so,” then, brighter, “Kix finally discharged him."

"I could've been out two rotations ago if it were up to me,” Skywalker complained.

"That's because you have no regard for your personal wellbeing," Kix called from the ship where he and Rex were loading supplies. "You're lucky I'm letting you out of my sight this soon, sir."

Skywalker grumbled under his breath and tugged on his sleeve. 

Wearing normal clothes again still felt strange to him. They remained all black, a dark cloak loosely draped over his shoulders to give him some semblance of familiarity. His hair had already started to grow back after an extra couple of rotations in the bacta tank—slowly, of course, but any progress was good progress to him. (However, this was not before Rex made some harsh comments on his coiffure during the war— _"But it looked like a mop, sir,"_ stood out the most.)

His new cybernetic prosthetics were far more comfortable than the ones in his suit—they didn't burn when he moved or feel stiff around the joints. He still walked with a slight limp, but Kix told him it would go away in time.

Rex briefly regarded him as they passed each other, Skywalker walking toward the ship while he went to grab another crate. Kix casually leaned against the ship’s frame ahead of him.

"Your form is getting better.”

Skywalker peered over his shoulder to be sure that Rex was far enough out of range. "Do you have it?"

The clone reached into his backpack and drew out Ahsoka's old lightsaber. "Here you go, sir."

Skywalker took it with the slightest smile, latching it to the back of his belt where it could be hidden behind his cloak. "Thank you,” he said.

Kix gave a soft nod in response. He walked down the ramp when Rex returned with another small crate of rations and set it down inside. When he looked up again, he noticed Bail approaching the ship.

"Gentlemen, I don't know why you insist on loading up yourselves,” he said. “I have plenty of people that could do this for you."

Kix shook his head, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Oh, it’s all right, sir. It's been a while since I've done any work like this."

"Force knows you need it.”

Kix's face scrunched at Rex's words. _"You're_ one to talk."

Rex pretended like he didn't hear it. He instead turned his attention to Bail. "The supplies alone are enough to warrant our gratitude, sir. The least we can do is load them up."

Bail gave a hesitant look but relented, placing a hand on Leia's shoulder when she and Ahsoka walked over to the ship. Rex and Kix slipped past them to load up the final crate.

"Thank you again, Bail," Ahsoka said, "I owe you many debts."

Bail shook his head. "None of that," he insisted. "You're family, Ahsoka. It was our pleasure."

Leia hummed in agreement. “You’ll come back again soon, right?”

Ahsoka nodded, smiling as she pulled her into a tight hug. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone,” she said lightly.

Leia smirked to herself. “No promises.”

Ahsoka let go and looked between the two fondly, a content, peaceful expression on her face that Skywalker hadn't seen since she was a Padawan.

"That's the last of it," Kix said after they finished loading the crate, and Ahsoka gave him a kind squeeze on the shoulder. 

“I don't know what we would have done without your help, Kix. Thank you for everything."

The medic nodded. "Just doing my duty, Commander."

After a moment, Rex sighed. “We should probably get going,” he said. “I imagine they've doubled down on hyperlane security since we last took off.”

Skywalker followed Ahsoka into the cockpit after she bid everyone one last farewell, sitting in the seat behind hers with a soft huff as they waited for Rex to finish saying goodbye to Kix. As the bay door rose, the captain settled into the co-pilot's seat, and Ahsoka silently keyed in some coordinates that Skywalker couldn't quite make out. 

Then, the ship lifted from the ground.

The two remained suspiciously quiet on the journey _._ Ahsoka's shoulders were stiff. Rex's eyes were unenthusiastically fixed on the sights in front of the viewports. 

Skywalker watched them skeptically.

"Where are we going?" he asked once they broke through the atmosphere.

"Oh, you don't have to worry," she said, her tone a little too restrained for his liking. “Besides, you need to rest. Remember Kix’s orders?”

Derailed. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Not until you answer me."

She hesitated. "We'll wake you up when we're close."

Skywalker bit his tongue to keep himself from spouting the words that pressed against his teeth—instead, he shifted in his seat to get comfortable, deciding that he would find out soon enough. 

As his eyes slid shut, the faint murmurs of his traveling companions filled his ears—far too quiet for him to hear, but enough to create background noise. He begrudgingly allowed himself to fall into a light slumber.

»»««

Scorching suns beamed down to the sand of Tatooine, the planet’s dry air laying stagnantly in the atmosphere and absorbing any life it could reach. The Dune Sea, vast and forlorn, split through the planet's surface—an area once rumored to be a real ocean by planet natives, now only treated as a nuisance—nothing but sand for klicks upon klicks without any foreseeable end. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi hit the ground. Hard.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, rolling to the side a millisecond before the Tusken Raider slammed his gaderffii into the sand. A group of Jawas stood on top of their Sandcrawler, safely watching the fight from above ground.

 _"Bu'wacha,"_ one of them yelled down. _Attack._

Obi-Wan huffed, forcing himself to his feet. His eyes flickered to the three other Raiders that surrounded him. _"What do you think I'm trying to do, my friend?"_ he asked in Jawaese. _"Worry not. I have it under control."_

The Jawas gabbled incomprehensibly at his words. Obi-Wan watched his opponents, his narrowed, calculating eyes bouncing between the four of them. One of the Tuskens snarled and charged toward him.

Obi-Wan moved to the side, grabbing onto the gaderffii and yanking it away. He tipped the end of the staff up sharply and struck its face, causing it to tumble backward.

Two others rushed toward him. Obi-Wan whirled around to gain momentum, hitting one of them before swinging at the other. Once, twice, thrice. They both fell to the sand alongside the first. 

The final one growled at him, raising its weapon before charging. Obi-Wan spun the staff in his hands and swept its feet out from under it. The Raider fell to the ground.

The high-pitched whoops of Jawas filled his ears. After waiting a moment to be sure they were down, Obi-Wan puffed out a breath, kicking the gaderffiis away from the Raider's grasp. They were contained, certainly, but not dead. They would be up in a few minutes. 

The band of Jawas came down to meet him at the bottom of the Sandcrawler once he returned.

"Taa baa," one of them exclaimed.

 _"You're quite welcome,"_ Obi-Wan said. _"Now. My payment?"_

The Jawas scrambled to grab the piece he had asked for. One came forward to offer it to him, and Obi-Wan took the part from its hands with a grateful smile. _"Goodbye for now."_

With that, he departed, trekking through the unrelenting suns and heavily malleable sands to get back to the Jundland Wastes. At some point during his journey back, he tied a strap onto the metal piece and strung it over his shoulder.

The path itself wasn’t a very long one—but with the scorching heat and the prolonged squinting, an hour easily stretched into a lifetime. By the time he reached the Wastes, he felt exhausted—both from the journey and his encounter with the Tuskens earlier. 

He walked the upper path of the gorge that ran up to his house, wanting nothing more than to get home and relax—

Then, a presence in the Force hit him—so painfully and unmistakably _familiar—_ and Obi-Wan stumbled. His back pressed against one of the boulders, the metal piece clanking against the sandstone as he reeled in hollow breaths, his mind spinning _._

He tried to steady himself.

 _It’s not him,_ he reassured himself. _It isn’t him, it couldn’t be him—_

Obi-Wan clenched his hands into tight fists, forcing himself to look down right as a small herd of Tuskens ran toward the mouth of the valley. His eyes landed on the group below him. 

It was him. 

Two figures walked beside Anakin—a togruta that looked a little too familiar for his liking, and a human he couldn't quite recognize from where he stood. 

Then there were voices in the gorge. He strained to listen.

"This is why he said to be careful in the Wastes!" The togruta shoved Anakin. "I told you we should have gone the other way, but no, you just had to pull the former residency card—"

"It's not my fault you wanted to come back to this carcass of a planet."

"You said you knew the way!"

"I said _I could get us over here._ I never said that I was updated on every karking settlement in the district. How was I supposed to know there were _Tuskens?"_

“If you don’t know whether or not the place we’re going is safe, _don’t tell me you—“_

At some point during their exchange, their voices faded under the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He pressed his back against the sandstone again, trembling hands making their way to the lightsaber hooked onto his belt—the one he always carried but never reached for—and clutching it tightly. 

He breathed in and out, forcing his grip to loosen.

Only three people knew of his location, which meant their presence couldn't be a coincidence. Someone told them.

_Find out who has been compromised._

Obi-Wan puffed out a breath and tried to shake the tension out of his hands before taking a few steps back.

Once he got a good enough start, he broke into a sprint, gravel and sand grinding underneath his shoes as he sprung from the cliff. He ignored the surge of nausea in the pit of his stomach, tucking his knees into his chest and spinning in the air once, twice, before landing in front of the small group with a resounding _smack._

The human stumbled back in surprise, and Anakin sucked in a sharp curse when Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, swiftly swinging it up to his neck and wrapping an arm over his clavicle to keep him in place.

Ahsoka stepped forward with wide eyes. "Wait, stop," she said quickly. "Master Kenobi, it's _us!"_

Obi-Wan heard steel and shifting plastoid behind him, followed by the familiar clicking of a pistol being set to stun.

"Sir, please drop your weapon."

That voice. A clone, then. He gave a side glance to the man, finally paying mind to his scattered pieces of armor— _501st_ paint, chipped but distinct, barely vibrant enough for him to recognize it.

Obi-Wan swallowed harshly. “How did you find me?”

"I’ll explain everything. I promise." Ahsoka took a cautious step forward. "Just put the lightsaber down."

He shook his head. "You're on _my_ territory. As far as I see it, you are in no place to make demands." He narrowed his eyes. "Now tell me—who gave you my location?”

She hesitated. He pushed the saber closer to Anakin’s neck. 

”Bail Organa, _”_ she blurted. “Bail Organa told me that we could find you here.”

Of course it was Bail.

“What business do you have with Bail Organa?”

“We’re forming an alliance against the Empire,” she explained quickly. "We've worked together for years. We just came from Alderaan." 

At her words, Obi-Wan faltered slightly. 

Leia.

Ahsoka took a small step forward. “We’re trying to get away from the Empire. We need a place to lay low for a while.”

"And why would _Darth Vader_ need to get away from the Empire?" Obi-Wan asked sharply. Ahsoka opened her mouth to answer, but he shook his head. "No. I want to hear it from him."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "Sanctimonious."

"Murderer."

He grimaced, baring his teeth. "I _left."_

"A deserter, then," Obi-Wan paused, looking over at Ahsoka. “I’m sure you can find another planet to hide on. This one’s quite occupied.”

"You can't claim a planet."

"I think I already have."

"Obi-Wan," she said firmly. "We came here to see you too."

Anakin grumbled under his breath, “Speak for yourself.”

Obi-Wan pushed the phasma blade closer and scowled. "If you're running from the Emperor, I’m sure you have quite the bounty on your head, Anakin," he said. "I'm tempted to turn you in at the outpost in Mos Eisley. I can't imagine how generous the payment would be for returning a _rogue dark lord._ Maybe I'll get enough credits to retire somewhere more pleasant."

"What could possibly be more pleasant than Tatooine?"

Obi-Wan found no humor in Anakin's words.

He took a step to the side but the lightsaber remained in its place. He craned his neck to look at the other two. “Well, while I must admit it is good to see you Ahsoka, Rex, I'm afraid I have to ask you all to leave—” His narrowed eyes turned back to Anakin— “as he is not welcome here.”

"Rather bold of you to assume I even want to be here,” Anakin spat. “They didn't even tell me where we were going until we entered the kriffing system, much less that _you_ were here." 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "And I thought that I would be able to elude you on this planet. Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You do excel at appearing uninvitedly, don’t you?”

"Leave it to you to preach about propriety," Anakin jeered. "I had hoped that the suns melted the last of your complacency, but it seems to be unfortunately intact."

"Come now. You sound bitter."

"You're a coward," Anakin hissed, daring a small step forward. "You left me to _die."_

Obi-Wan shook his head, his grip on the hilt tightening. “You died long before I ever got to you, Anakin.”

Ahsoka looked between them, confusion pooling in her wide eyes. Her hands moved to hover above the two sabers fastened to her waist, the action subtle, but not enough for it to go unnoticed. Obi-Wan kept a close eye on her.

"You're lucky I don't report the two of you as well," he said. "Aiding a fugitive is an Imperial offense. If you get caught with him, you'll be executed for treason."

“We know the consequences, sir,” Rex said, his pistols still turned on the back of Obi-Wan’s skull. "We’ve avoided execution for over fifteen years."

Obi-Wan tilted his head. "You seem rather proud of that, Captain."

"Just another day with my head intact."

Obi-Wan didn’t respond—instead, he glanced over to Anakin again, ignoring the fact that simply _looking_ at him was enough to make his stomach want to churn. Though his blue eyes held little resemblance to the ones he saw on Mustafar, Obi-Wan noticed a small, nearly indistinguishable ring of gold surrounding his pupils. 

“I should’ve ended this on Mustafar,” he said, hyper-aware of the quickening _thrum_ of his pulse. “I should kill you right now.”

Anakin gave a crooked, humorless smile, but he didn’t say anything.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. _“What?”_

“Nothing,” he replied, "I just don’t think you have it in you.”

"Are you so certain?” Obi-Wan jeered the saber impossibly closer to Anakin, and Ahsoka made a sharp noise of protest from behind him. "I would still sleep peacefully tonight if I destroyed what little is left of you."

He wouldn’t. But he’s never slept peacefully. Not after Maul. Not after Satine. Not after Mustafar. Adding another reason to the list wouldn’t break him. 

Anakin’s lips curled into a disdainful scowl. “You’re still bound by your virtue."

“I’m not bound by anything."

“Everyone is bound by something,” Anakin said. “Your anger toward me isn’t strong enough for you to break your moral code.”

“The only ‘ _code’_ I followed was the _Jedi Code_ —but since you’ve slaughtered the last of us, the customs hold no authority over me anymore,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re at a disadvantage, my old friend. I would suggest that you stop pushing your luck before it runs out.”

“And I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”

Obi-Wan scowled.

"If you want to, then do it," Anakin challenged. Ahsoka shot him a disapproving look. “Kill me. Show them just how _honorable_ the Jedi were.”

"Don't think that I won't,” Obi-Wan said.

A beat passed. Anakin narrowed his eyes.

“Then do it,” he repeated. “I won’t fight back. You want a chance to bring me to justice? To give me what I _deserve?_ Here it is.”

He extended his arms to his side to prove his point.

Obi-Wan studied him closely, unable to suitably pinpoint the emotions whirling in the Force around Anakin—the closest he could guess was an odd mixture of foolhardiness and contempt. 

“What game are you playing?” 

“No game,” Anakin said. “I’m tired of running. And how fitting it would be for the Master to kill his apprentice.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath in disbelief. “I must say I am tempted,” he said, “but I don’t want to clean up the mess.”

“I’m sure the Tuskens would gladly take care of that part for you,” Anakin said dismissively, almost smugly. He saw right through the excuse. “What’s stopping you?”

The soft hum of his blue lightsaber echoed off the walls, illuminating the valley as the suns began to set. 

Anakin eyed him. “You have the upper hand. Use your advantage.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. 

"Look around you," Anakin scowled. "The Jedi are gone because of me. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you want to _kill me?”_

“Of course I do.” Obi-Wan’s hand twitched, knuckles turning white around his tight grip. “Every day in this desert is another I spend trying to come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t _see it sooner.”_

Anakin stepped forward. "So _kill me.”_

Obi-Wan shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “I gave up everything for you, Anakin," he said. "To raise you, to teach you, to guide you. I spent the entirety of my young life trying to keep you out of trouble."

Another humorless laugh. Broken and dry.

"And look where that left us—” Anakin gestured around weakly, pitifully— "right back on the same _Force-forsaken_ _planet_ that we started on."

A heavy beat of silence passed. Rex's blasters were still trained on the back of Obi-Wan's head. Ahsoka looked increasingly nervous with nearly every other word that Anakin uttered. Anakin was beginning to sweat from the heat emanating from the lightsaber.

“If you want to kill me, then just kill me," Anakin said finally, less of a challenge, more of a request. "I have nothing left to lose. End the suffering for both of us."

At his words, Obi-Wan felt a shift in the Force around them. Darkened, broken ripples of energy emitted from Anakin and into the dimming atmosphere. Pain, misery, grief, drawing, _stretching, fluctuating_ into the sky as the two moons began to rise. Intense, but pointedly suppressed. 

_End the suffering,_ he mused, _but at what cost?_

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No,” he decided. “I won’t humor you.”

Ahsoka subtly let out a breath as he deactivated his lightsaber and hooked it onto his belt. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan gave an impassive nod, dimly registering the distant shrieks of Tusken Raiders that echoed off the sandstone walls of the gorge. Rex turned his pistols toward the noise.

"I thought we got rid of those things,” he grumbled.

Obi-Wan looked between the three of them and sighed. “We have to move," he said. “Frightening them only does so much. They come back in larger numbers.”

"We?" Ahsoka repeated. “Does that mean we can stay?"

“No,” he said, and she deflated slightly. “However, I’m not going to leave you here to fend for yourself. I’m not _that_ uncivilized. We can further discuss this matter at my hut.”

Besides the brief, hushed scolding Anakin received from Ahsoka, the walk was rather silent—a million unanswered questions hovering in the air, but none of them daring to breach the surface. By the time they finally reached the sandstone hut, the suns in the sky had already been replaced by the moons.

Obi-Wan entered first, not bothering to see them in properly. He walked up the small flight of stairs to his ventilation unit and detached the part the Jawas gave to him from his back.

"This is..." Anakin trailed before settling on, _"Quant."_

"Ne'johaa," Rex snapped from the other side of the room, and Anakin let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I wasn't _trying_ to—"

"Bail sends you his regards," Ahsoka interrupted, clearly to keep Anakin from talking further. She leaned on the sandstone doorway across from him.

Obi-Wan looked up and offered a small smile. "It has been many years since I've seen him. Is he well?"

She returned the smile. "He certainly has his hands full, but he's well."

"And his daughter.” He kept his eyes glued to the unit, forcing his hands to keep working so he didn’t seem suspicious. “How is she?"

"Annoying."

Obi-Wan snapped his wide eyes over to Anakin, and Ahsoka let out an exasperated breath. _"Anakin—"_

A shrug. "He asked."

Ahsoka stared at him blankly before turning back to Obi-Wan. "She's doing great, Master Kenobi. Thank you for asking."

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously and hurried to finish installing the piece. "I’m sure you’ve traveled a very long way. Where is your ship?"

"It's safe if that's what you're asking," Anakin said from the living area. "I made them hide it. They didn't do enough research before coming to this wasteland."

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to comment on his tone. He wiped his hands on his clothes and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a kettle from the small shelf above his oven and filling it. He peered over his shoulder to look at Ahsoka. "Caf?"

"Please."

Once it was ready, he extended a cup to her and Rex, then, begrudgingly, one to Anakin. He narrowed his eyes. 

“You didn’t poison this, did you?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t waste my good poison on you,” Obi-Wan said. The answer seemed satisfactory enough to Anakin. He took a short swig of the drink and set it back down on the table.

Ahsoka looked between the two carefully before her eyes settled on Obi-Wan. "Master Kenobi, Anakin has left the Empire."

"I find it intriguing that you try to speak on his behalf, Ahsoka," he said, turning his attention to Anakin. "Are you unable to speak for yourself?"

"I'm perfectly capable," Anakin growled. "I just don't want to waste my breath."

“Well, you’ve wasted your breath on far worse before.”

"I'm not in the mood to be talked down to," Anakin shot back, his tone prompting a warning look from Ahsoka. 

Obi-Wan's grip on his mug tightened. "You may run, Anakin, but you'll never be free from them."

“Don’t you think I know that?” Anakin snapped, and a beat of silence followed his words, a heaviness in the air around them.

Obi-Wan slowly set his mug on the table and looked up.

"This path,” he started, “all the death, all the destruction that followed—" He hesitated, nearly not even wanting to know the answer. "Was it worth it?"

Anakin went stiff for a fleeting moment. There was a shift in the Force as his gaze fell to his hands.

It seemed as though he wanted to answer, but every effort he made to speak was in vain. His eyes were burdened and dark, almost tormented, and Obi-Wan paused, the questions gnawing at his mind becoming too strong for him to bear.

"Did you truly think I would turn you away if you had told me the truth?" he asked. "After all that we'd been through, did you think I would ever leave you?” 

Anakin barked a humorless laugh. “You followed the Jedi Code closer than anyone I had ever seen. You're the last person I could have told."

Defensive. 

Obi-Wan felt his gaze soften. “I would have listened.”

"You would have belittled me."

Obi-Wan frowned at his words. “Do you truly believe that?”

Anakin stayed silent. He downed the last of his caf, harshly setting the mug down before he turned to Ahsoka and Rex.

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “The suns have already set, Anakin. The chances of you getting back to the ship unscathed are slim.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Then what would you suggest?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, not quite wanting to answer, but unable to ignore the vexing nip of his conscience. “I suppose you can stay here for the night,” he said.

Ahsoka perked up slightly. "Really?"

Kriff.

 _"Only_ for the night,” he clarified. “I expect you to be gone by midday tomorrow.”

She gave a smile. "Thank you.”

Obi-Wan noticed a familiar glint in her eyes, and he could only hope that she planned to follow through with their side of the deal—because he suddenly got the feeling that making them leave might be more difficult than he thought. 

»»««

The Emperor's throne room—lit only by the blue that emanated from the holoprojected image that stood before the throne—felt cold. Empty, even, despite the crimson-clad figures stationed across the room to surround the Emperor.

"Skywalker has finally betrayed us," the Emperor said slowly. "I trust you to find him."

The man in the holo nodded, a dark hood concealing his face. _"He shall not outrun his fate, Master.”_

The Emperor hummed and then paused, sitting upright in his throne. "Yet I sense turmoil within you.”

The man hesitated. _"What will become of the Nabooian?"_ he inquired carefully. _“Skywalker will try to find her now that he's out of your reach.”_

"Let him," the Emperor said calmly, _dismissively._ "Allow him a small victory. She is insignificant to us now."

The man narrowed his eyes. _"I must object—”_

The Emperor held a hand up to silence him. His mouth clamped shut.

"Patience, my boy," he said. "Let him believe that he has gained the upper hand— _then_ you shall strike. Skywalker's arrogance is his weakness.”

The man tipped his head. _"Yes, Master.”_

With that, the connection went dead.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *skates in with a smoothie* hello folks
> 
> sorry im late again, i swear i haven't forgotten about this story. i just spent so much time restructuring this chapter that i nearly Passed Away. thank you all for being patient!!! i promise i'll try to update more frequently now that summer is upon us <3
> 
> thank u for reading :) as always, feel free to let me know what you think!!
> 
> -
> 
> translations:
> 
> taa baa = thank you (jawaese)  
> ne'johaa = shut up (mando'a)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> obi-wan to ahsoka and rex: ew ew ew get that thing away from me :(
> 
> anakin: i have a name

_"It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground."_

_There were a million words pressed against the back of his teeth, yet he couldn't bring himself to say any of them._

_"You underestimate my power!"_

_Obi-Wan shook his head in disapproval, anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach. "Don't try it."_

_A sickening slice rang through the air shortly after Anakin sprang from the raft, and a body tumbled down the embankment. Obi-Wan reeled in a few shallow breaths._

_"You were the Chosen One!" he screamed through the smoke in his lungs and the rasp of his throat. "It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"_

_He set his jaw and turned, forcing down the rebelling thoughts that pleaded against it, his trembling legs leading him to the higher ground. One foot in front of the other, he reminded himself, his nose and throat burning from the unpleasant fumes in the air. He tried to ignore the wails of agony behind him by focusing on the loud bubbling noises coming from the lava instead. Anything else. Anything was better than the screams._

_He picked up Anakin's—no, not Anakin, not anymore—_ the blue lightsaber _with shaky fingers, and braved one last look at his apprentice, his gaze landing on the writhing, burning man that clawed at the dust with golden eyes. The kind of eyes that he only ever saw in their enemies._

_"I hate you!"_

_Anakin's words hit him in the chest, the sorrow that followed nearly making his knees buckle. "You were my brother, Anakin," he said, his head spinning, voice threatening to break. "I loved you.”_

_And he sincerely meant every word—far more than he ever should have. Far more than the Jedi Code would allow._

_Anakin's clothes caught fire, and the agony in the Force became too much for him to handle. With a ruined soul, he tightened his grip on the lightsaber, turning once again to walk away—only this time, he didn't let himself look back._

»»««

The suns of Tatooine had yet to fully rise, and Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in the sand, trying his best to meditate despite the nagging awareness of Anakin's Force signature inside the hut behind him. His eyelids felt heavy, but his mind refused to sleep knowing Anakin was in the area—so here he was, going on his fifth hour of sitting in the dust and speaking into the air.

"I wish I could forgive as you did, Master," Obi-Wan muttered, not quite sure whether or not he believed the spirits listened. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, "Every time I look at him, I only see the fallen. Even still, I sense the conflict between light and darkness in him."

He sat in the quietness of daybreak, listening, waiting for _something._ A sign, perhaps, to assure him that he did the right thing by letting them stay—because it seemed that with every moment that passed, he thought up ten new reasons why he shouldn’t have offered.

Anakin needed to leave. As long as he was on the planet, Luke's life would be at risk. It was far too dangerous— _reckless,_ even, and there was little Obi-Wan Kenobi abhorred more than recklessness. 

But he knew, deep down, they were meant to be there.

For what purpose, he had yet to uncover. The Force was unfortunately mysterious, always working behind the scenes to orchestrate events and circumstances.

"Be with me," he murmured into the air, "be with me."

Tatooine often felt very lonesome, but sometimes, as he sat underneath the orange and pink painted sky, he could pretend that isolation wasn’t as bad as it felt. He found comfort in speaking to Qui-Gon when he sought guidance.

A few more moments of silence passed. Then, Obi-Wan felt a presence behind him. He sighed. "Come on out, Ahsoka.”

She stepped outside with an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Obi-Wan only gestured to a place beside him. Ahsoka accepted the offer, quietly lowering herself into the sand to sit next to him as his eyes slid shut. 

"Are you talking to Master Jinn?" she asked softly.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment before deciding on, "I speak to whoever listens."

Ahsoka hummed, shifting to get into a more comfortable position as the breeze quieted and the suns began to scald the dust around them.

"I never thought I would see him again," Obi-Wan admitted quietly, "and now that I've gotten the opportunity, I'm not quite sure what to do."

Ahsoka looked over to him for a moment before facing forward again. “After the war ended, all I could think about was all the things I should have told him. Things I should have told you both,” she paused. "I suppose you only think of the right things to say when it's too late.”

Another beat of silence passed, and Obi-Wan watched her closely. "Surely you've seen what he's become. Why do you still have so much faith in him?"

Ahsoka parted her lips before pursing them again as she thought over her words. "Because I know he's trying. That's really all I can ask of him."

"You truly believe he can change?"

"I know he will never be the same as he once was," she said, "but I'm also learning that we've changed too. I don't believe growth should be feared."

They stayed outside for a while longer, sitting in silence as they watched the suns rise. It felt peaceful. More peaceful than Obi-Wan had felt in a while—but before long, he realized that the time he had asked them to depart had come, and the two made their way back inside the stone hut.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Anakin called from the living area when he saw them walk in. “I was beginning to think that you already left.”

Obi-Wan raised a brow. “Is that one of my rags?”

Anakin smirked to himself. "Maybe it is."

Rex looked up from where he was organizing their shared ‘pack with narrowed eyes. “Why are you scrubbing your boots so hard?”

“I hate sand,” he grumbled before tossing the rag to the side and tugging his boots back onto his feet. "Come on, Ahsoka, time to go."

Obi-Wan forced a smile. "Before you've raided my food supply? That doesn't sound like you."

"There are plenty of supplies on the ship,” Anakin replied. “Food that I don’t have to _double-check.”_

“You should know I’m not the poisoning type by now.”

“One can never be too sure.”

“Where is your ship stationed?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin hesitated. “Over by the North Ridge,” he paused to narrow his eyes. _“Why?”_

Obi-Wan let out a breath to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to be so defensive. I was only going to offer a ride.”

_“As if I would accept a—“_

“That would be great, Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka called over her shoulder, disregarding the offending glare Anakin shot at her as she took the ‘pack from Rex and slung it over her shoulder. “I imagined the walk back would be much worse now that the suns are out.”

“I think I’d rather get sun poisoning.” Anakin leaned against one of the stone pillars.

Obi-Wan ignored him. “I’ll get my landspeeder," he said. "Wait here. It should only take a moment.”

With that, he stepped back outside, walking around his house to the vehicle. The old red speeder was hidden behind a dusty grey tarp, and he tugged it off, rolling a large rock on top of the material to keep it in place while he was gone.

 _Perhaps they were meant to leave,_ he thought belatedly. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. They were ready to head back to the ship.

Obi-Wan got into the pilot’s seat of the speeder, sparking the engine once, twice—then on the third time, it sputtered to life.

The speeder was working.

 _Perhaps they were meant to leave,_ he thought again.

He slowly drove the speeder to the front of the house, a small pang of sadness hit him in the chest when he saw the three of them standing there. He pursed his lips, finally realizing that this was likely the last time he would see them in this life. _Perhaps they could stay for a—_

“You expect me to ride on _this_ piece of junk?” Anakin asked loudly, and the sadness suddenly disappeared. 

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, you can always walk to the ship if that's what you prefer.”

Anakin grumbled something under his breath but begrudgingly climbed onto the back of the speeder, taking a seat beside Ahsoka and behind Rex. Obi-Wan listened to the old engine rumble as they wordlessly drove toward the ship, dodging the various rocks and natural structures in the canyons before merging onto a side trail.

"Oh, dear," Obi-Wan muttered once the Ridge came into view.

Anakin sighed. “What?”

The speeder skidded to a halt. Anakin leaned forward, his eyes widening when they finally caught on the sight ahead of them.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no, _no."_

A group of Jawas gathered by the ship—or rather, _what was left of it_ —and the four of them abandoned the speeder. Anakin snapped off some very loud, colorful words, causing the creatures to scatter, and Obi-Wan sighed at the sight. Their ship had been completely stripped.

Most of the Jawas retreated into the Sandcrawler, but some lingered outside to watch the four of them. Obi-Wan slowly approached the group, offering a kind greeting in Jawaese and sitting down in front of them. 

“He's speaking to them. Of _course,_ he's speaking to them," he heard Anakin say. "Was this your plan all along? Make us stay overnight while your little friends here destroyed our way out of this place?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I want you to leave just as much as you do." Obi-Wan said. "Now quiet, Anakin, I'm negotiating. They're less likely to cooperate if you upset them."

Obi-Wan didn't need to be a Jedi to sense Anakin's anxiety. Anakin begrudgingly went silent, and Obi-Wan continued his conversation with the Jawas.

"Rex, can you check the damage?" Ahsoka asked quietly, and he nodded, wordlessly slipping past them to get to the ship.

 _“How much for the parts?”_ Obi-Wan asked in Jawaese. After a moment of discussion, he nodded to the Jawas and walked over to Anakin and Ahsoka again.

“Well?” Ahsoka asked.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m afraid they won’t compromise.”

“I’m sure I could persuade them,” Anakin scowled, taking a threatening step forward and causing a few of the Jawas to stumble.

 _“Utinni,”_ one of them shouted, and Obi-Wan pulled Anakin back.

“You most certainly will _not,”_ he snapped quietly. “These Jawas are my primary source of income. Do not upset them.”

“Then _tell them to give our stuff back—”_

Ahsoka folded her arms when Rex returned. "What's the report?"

"It's not good," the captain replied grimly. "The accelerator is missing. Our supplies were taken. Lateral stabilizers, shield boosters, and drive plates are all gone too. Looks like we're stuck here."

The remaining Jawas had already filtered back into the Sandcrawler, and the engine stuttered for a few seconds before it slowly began to roll away.

Anakin scrubbed his face with his hands. “Great. This is just great. Stuck on _Tatooine._ No ship. No _karking_ supplies.”

The drive back to Obi-Wan’s stone hut was tense. Anakin looked like he could explode at any second—combined with the surges of emotion rippling in the Force around him, Obi-Wan would be lying if he said it didn’t put him on edge—while Ahsoka and Rex kept to themselves, each wearing their own grim, contemplative expressions. 

_Well,_ Obi-Wan thought humorlessly, _you did ask for a sign._

Anakin stormed inside once they got back, ripping his cloak off and throwing it to the floor in a rather immature manner. "I should have made you hide it better," he swept a hand over his head. "This never should have happened."

Ahsoka sighed. “It’s not your fault, Anakin. We’ll figure something out.”

Obi-Wan walked past them, making his way into the kitchen to retrieve a piece of flimsiplast from his cabinet. He grabbed a pen and scribbled down a list of items before taking a couple of covers from his rack.

“This is working out just perfectly, isn’t it?“ Anakin jolted when Obi-Wan launched his discarded grey cloak at him. _“What the—“_

“Put it back on. We're going to Mos Eisley.”

He looked at the cloak. “I thought you wanted us to leave?”

“I do,” Obi-Wan replied, kindly handing a shawl to Rex, “but your ship is in no such condition. You'll crash well before you reach the atmosphere.”

Narrowed, skeptical eyes met his. “And what’s in it for you?” 

“The ability to sleep tonight without worrying about your ship crushing my home.” 

Anakin held eye contact for a moment before clicking his tongue. “Fair.”

“What’s Mos Eisley?” Ahsoka asked after Obi-Wan extended a cloak to her. 

“A womp rat’s nest,” Anakin grumbled under his breath.

“One that might have the parts that you need,” Obi-Wan added. “Now, are you coming?”

»»««

Anakin Skywalker remembered a lot of things about Tatooine—the sympathetic faces he received when some saw him working in Watto’s shop, the sand that always trickled through his worn shoes, the ins and outs of the hut he once shared with his mother. Above all, however, he remembered that nothing blended worse than the arid Tatooinian atmosphere and a bustling midday crowd. 

Mos Eisley held a mob of people, all boorishly and senselessly worming their way through the booths set up on the street before their fellow sentient, and unluckily, Skywalker found himself walking among the masses.

“Keep your heads down and your hoods up. Don’t interact with the authorities—“

“Yeah, yeah, we know the drill.” Skywalker interrupted. “Don’t draw attention. Don’t blow anything up. Got it.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Ahsoka, please keep an eye on him.”

Skywalker opened his mouth to spout something undoubtedly vulgar, but Obi-Wan held a hand up tiredly.

“Save your insults for later, Anakin. We have to get moving.”

Skywalker bit the inside of his cheek as the four of them carefully slipped through the crowd, blindly following Obi-Wan to wherever he had planned. When they arrived, Skywalker‘s eyes narrowed.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Come along, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, already beginning to walk into the _sandpit_ known as Mos Eisley’s Cantina. “The longer you complain, the longer we have to be here.”

Skywalker scoffed, his eyes darting around the area anxiously before following them inside. The boisterous chatter of the tavern flooded his ears when they entered, the sharp scent of sweat, liquor, and cheap perfumes instantly causing his nose to scrunch.

“Do try _not_ to wander,” Obi-Wan spoke over the commotion. His eyes scanned the crowd before landing a figure sitting in a booth. “This should only take a moment.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Skywalker asked.

“Stay out of trouble,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, and with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Where do you think he's going?" Ahsoka asked.

Rex shrugged. "Beats me."

Skywalker stood beside them, hovering awkwardly among the sea of drunkards, thieves, and spice-addicts that surrounded the bar. The music pounded into his head so hard that it made his eyelids ache, and he rubbed his temples, trying to center himself the best he could.

A small tremor spread to his fingertips, and he clenched his fists tightly, forcing himself to use the calming techniques he was taught as a Padawan.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

At least the Jedi were good for one thing, he supposed. 

He dimly heard Ahsoka’s voice on his left, her words indistinct under the layers upon layers of other conversations that ranged everywhere from death threats to meek discussions of the weather. Skywalker exhaled a low, shaky breath through his teeth when the unruly voices around him got louder.

Their ship was ripped apart. But it was fine. He was stuck on _Tatooine_ with _Obi-Wan Kenobi._ But it was okay. Everything was great. It was perfect. 

He closed his eyes and reeled in another breath. He left the Empire for this. He lost _everything—_ his security, his power, his reputation.

All to end up on Tatooine.

At last, he no longer had to rely on the Emperor—but it was beginning to feel like he was no better than where he was when he started.

Skywalker gritted his teeth and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, the air filling his lungs suddenly not satisfying enough. He counted to ten, murmuring the numbers under his breath until his throat felt too tight.

No, he _was_ better off. He didn’t have to kill anymore. He could finally find peace.

 _It wouldn’t be deserved, though,_ a voice in the back of his mind spat, _not after everything you’ve done._

His hands were shaking.

But he was _fine._ He _knew_ he was fine. Besides, Ahsoka and Rex were with him. Nothing was going to happen. He was safe in the crowd. 

Then he opened his eyes again, and suddenly Ahsoka and Rex weren’t next to him anymore. Alarm swelled in the pit of his stomach as his eyes bounced over the chaotic array of people.

 _No, no, no, no._

Skywalker shoved past some sentients, the cloak neatly clasped over his collarbone suddenly feeling much heavier than it did earlier. But it was fine.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

His breaths had become shallow and sharp, each intake of air only adding more pressure to his chest until the room started to feel suffocating. He turned again, eyes frantically searching for familiarity but finding nothing. Too hot. Too many people. 

_Where are they?_

Skywalker's fingers clawed at his cloak despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to remove it, desperate for some relief from the invisible, smothering weight on his chest. 

_Breathe in, breathe out._

In his searching, he managed to bump into an Arcona with a half-empty canteen in her hand and an eyepatch strung over her eye. The liquid in her cup made a small _swoosh_ sound at the impact.

“You alright there, pal?” she asked gruffly.

The ground began to sway when Skywalker tried to nod. “I think I just need a breath,” he replied weakly, unable to hear his own words over the booming sound of music and conversation. He stumbled to get to the door, his eyes burning, fingers tingling, and—

_“Hey, watch it!"_

The warning was received far too late. A crate of machinery and parts dropped to the sand, clattering and loud, and Skywalker sobered up just enough to snap his attention to the young, narrowed eyes staring back at him.

“Sorry, kid,” he grumbled, shaking his head and reaching out to help pick up the fallen pieces. The stuffy Tatoonian air did little to relieve the tightness of his throat, but it was admittedly far better than the Cantina. Once they gathered the parts and put them back into the crate, Skywalker stood. “That’s an… interesting load. Where are you headed?

“What’s it to you, old man?”

Skywalker stared at him for a moment, his chest still slightly constricted. “You know what, I don’t care. Safe travels.”

The kid watched him with a crooked smile. “I’m just messing with you,” he answered lightly. “Anchorhead. My uncle’s buddy owns a power shop down there.”

Skywalker let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that a long way to travel on foot?”

The kid picked up the crate with a soft huff. “One of our fuel cells ruptured when we were driving along the canyon. Once we get our supplies, we’re off.”

Then, there was a voice from the crowd behind him, calling a name Skywalker didn’t quite catch. The kid turned his head at the noise.

“Kriff, that’s my cue.” The kid shook the crate to make the pieces inside settle neatly before giving a smile. “See you on the flip side.”

With that, he jogged over to a mysterious figure that turned before Skywalker could see his face. Skywalker’s eyes lingered for a few moments, and a bizarre sense of familiarity fell over him as the crowd engulfed the two figures. 

He started to take a step forward, feeling a faint _tug_ toward the two, a longing—but he was suddenly stopped, nearly jumping out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Oh, thank _Force._ There you are. Rex and I have been looking all over for you, and I did _not_ want to explain to Obi-Wan that you—“ Ahsoka’s lighthearted smile dropped when she noticed his wide eyes. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

Skywalker glanced over to the crowd that the boy had just disappeared into, subtly flexing his fingers to get them to _stop shaking._ “Nothing,” he forced a smile, “just needed some fresh air.”

Ahsoka eyed him. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

He shook his head and shrugged her hand off his shoulder. “Come on. We should get inside before Obi-Wan tries to cut my new arms off.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know."

Skywalker stopped walking. He turned around with a sigh. “Don’t have to do _what?”_

“Be secretive,” she said gently. "I won't push you. But you don't have to keep carrying so much on your own, Anakin. It's not healthy."

"I'm fine," he replied stubbornly, and she stared at him for a moment, clearly not willing to let up. "I'm _fine,_ Snips. We have bigger things to worry about."

The nickname was a low blow, he knew, but he wanted to escape the conversation as quickly as he could. For a fleeting moment, it looked like she was going to argue further—but to his great relief, she only sighed.

"All right, I'll take your word for it," she said, "but I'll be here if you ever need me.

Skywalker parted his lips to say something back, but the words never left his throat. He watched her walk into the cantina, lingering outside for a few more seconds before stepping back in and following Ahsoka to a booth. 

“Ah, good,” Rex said when he caught sight of them. "You found Skywalker.”

“What did I tell you about wandering off?" Obi-Wan asked in that _stupid_ patronizing voice that he only seemed to use on _him._ Skywalker sat beside Ahsoka, directing his scowl to the man sitting across the table. 

"Did you actually get something, or are you just trying to waste our time?"

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "A name. Peli Motto. She manages Bay 3-5."

"How does that help us?" Skywalker asked, still trying to shake the tremor out of his hands. 

"We have to keep a low profile," Obi-Wan replied. "From what I’m told, she doesn’t ask questions."

"You're sure she'll have the things we need to fix the ship?" Ahsoka asked him.

"I'm afraid going through a secondary supplier is our only option right now. All of the official manufacturers on Tatooine are Imperial-run."

Rex crossed his arms and leaned back. "What are the chances of them noticing us?"

"They report directly to the Empire," Skywalker grumbled. "All of the names and purchases are kept on file."

"How often are the logs looked into?" Rex asked.

"Too often. We wouldn't get far."

Ahsoka turned her attention to Obi-Wan again. "The bay. Is it nearby?"

He nodded. "It's toward the outskirts of town, about a ten-minute walk."

"Well, no better time than the present.” Ahsoka readjusted her hood to hide her face. “Let’s go.”

»»««

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Skywalker furrowed his brows, whispering to no one in particular as they stood in front of Bay 3-5. 

"Certain," Obi-Wan said. "Perhaps she—" 

Before he could finish, a woman stepped out in front of them, her curly dark hair tied back and a blaster-rifle in her hands. 

"Hello there," Obi-Wan greeted calmly, his hands instinctively raised at his sides. "Are you Peli Motto?"

"Depends on who's asking."

“If you have the parts we need, a customer.”

The woman slowly lowered the rifle. “A customer, huh? Haven't had one of those in a while.” 

_Clearly,_ Skywalker wanted to say, but he kept the comment to himself.

She slung the blaster over her shoulder, walking to the switchboard that stood to the side of the docked transport. Obi-Wan followed, standing a safe distance away from her as she grabbed a pair of pliers and clipped a few circuits.

"We heard that you retail starship components."

"I do," she replied, looking up to glance at the four of them. "What kind of components are we talking about?"

"I've written down all of the parts we need here." Obi-Wan reached into his robe and drew out the flimsiplast note, and Peli straightened, reaching out to take the flimsy from him. She clicked her tongue a few times as her eyes scanned over the page.

"Can you supply them?" Ahsoka asked after a moment.

"Yeah, I can supply them," she said finally, her eyes flickering between them, "but I request full payment upfront."

"We'll pay when the pieces are in our possession," Skywalker said, causing Obi-Wan to narrow his eyes. He opened his mouth to scold him, but Peli spoke before he could.

"Three-quarters."

"We'll pay half now and half later." Skywalker extended a hand. "Do we have a deal?"

The woman stared at him for a moment, and Rex swore caught Kenobi pinching the bridge of his nose out of the corner of his eye. 

Peli scoffed, her lips tugging up into a smirk. "All right, you've got yourself a deal," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "Come back midday tomorrow and I'll have your parts ready to go."

Skywalker tossed a smug glance over to Obi-Wan. "Sounds great."

»»««

The suns on Tatooine had finally set again. The fire from the pit rose to meet the dark sky, crackling and bright, and Ahsoka watched Anakin. He sat a small distance away from the rest of them, a faint, blue light coming from the palm of his hand. 

“I’m worried about him,” she told Rex quietly.

He looked over at her. "What for?"

"I don't know," she said, "I just... sense this turmoil in him. Do you think he’s having second thoughts?”

"It's hard to say." Rex huffed. "The General never did like this place. I'm sure being stuck here isn't helping anything."

The holoprojector was just loud enough for her to detect a female voice, soft and familiar, almost completely hidden beneath the sound of embers sparking from the fire pit. 

"Maybe you should talk to him."

Ahsoka quirked a brow. "Why me?"

Rex shrugged. "You're the only one here he really trusts."

"I don't want to upset him."

"If he doesn't want to talk, he won't talk," he said, "but it wouldn't hurt to offer."

Ahsoka threw another uncertain glance in Anakin's direction. The recording flickered in his hands. She stood, quietly making her way over to where he was to sit down next to him. The blue light vanished.

"You two went well together,” she offered.

The sides of Anakin’s mouth tipped into a sad smile. “I suppose we weren’t as subtle as I thought we were.”

Ahsoka nearly asked what happened to her. But she knew she couldn't. So they sat in silence, simply looking into the obscurity of the night's sky. After a while, Anakin shifted, and Ahsoka looked over to him as he hooked the holoprojector back onto his belt.

“Is everything okay?” she asked when his hands suddenly stilled. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled his grey cloak to the side and drew a familiar silver item into the dim light. Her brows furrowed.

“My lightsaber?” she breathed. “How did you—“

“I found it at the crash site several cycles ago,” he said. “It was buried beneath the wreckage.” 

Anakin gingerly offered it to her, and she accepted it, rolling the rusted hilt around in her palm. “The Emperor had already told me that you were dead. Finding that only convinced me further.”

A sigh fell from her lips as she stared at the lightsaber. “So many died that day.”

At her words, Ahsoka felt his guilt seep into the Force. “I know,” he said, closing his eyes tightly. “I know.”

They sat in more silence.

“You kept it after all this time?” she asked quietly.

Anakin’s shoulders stiffened. “I should have given it to you sooner.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m not upset with you.”

Anakin nodded slowly, turning his eyes back to the open desert in front of them. The sight looked rather ominous—nothing but sand and darkness as far as the eye could see. She sighed.

“Here.”

He snapped his attention to her extended hand. “What?”

“Keep it,” she said, pushing it toward him. “You need it more than I do.”

Anakin eyed the lightsaber for a few seconds before taking it again. He clasped it onto his belt once more, not bothering to conceal it with his cloak this time.

“You know you shouldn’t trust me with this.”

“You’ve had it this whole time and haven’t done anything with it,” Ahsoka paused. “Trust goes both ways. You can’t trust me until I trust you.”

“This could be a mistake,” he warned lightly. “Obi-Wan always said that misplaced trust was dangerous.”

“Then don’t let it be misplaced.”

He looked over at her, his gaze flickering between her eyes. “All right,” he muttered, and Ahsoka was satisfied with that. She glanced over her shoulder to see Obi-Wan and Rex sitting by the fire.

“You’re welcome to join us over there, you know,” she offered. “The fire feels much nicer than the air over here.”

Anakin hesitated. “I think I’ll stay here for now.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded silently, and Ahsoka took the hint. She stood again to walk back to her spot. Rex nudged her shoulder lightly when she returned. 

A pleasant feeling of nostalgia fell over her as she listened in on the story that Obi-Wan had been relaying to Rex while she was gone. It reminded her of the times that they shared during the war—and though Anakin wasn’t sitting with them, his presence in the Force was enough to bring back the memories.

For once, Ahsoka Tano felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i will admit i have not watched rebels in its entirety and that is solely based on the fact that i Cannot Stand the rebels (except for hera and kanan and hera and kanan only) so you can only imagine my distress when i stumbled upon the clip of rex talking about kenobi and how bail confirmed his death. 
> 
> to clear this up, i have decided that we will all just collectively pretend that never happened in this AU :)
> 
> thank you all for reading!! if you have anything you would like to see included, (character interactions, lil subplots, and basically things that won't effect the main plot but will add spice) feel free to request!! 
> 
> also... looking the comments for this book always make my day?? everyone is so lovely and i appreciate you all:,)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahsoka: say it
> 
> anakin: im sorry
> 
> ahsoka: for?
> 
> anakin: *sighs* for lighting ur village on fire and destroying ur family

“So just to get this straight—are you telling me that you’ve evaded capture for _fifteen years_ by changing your name to _Ben Kenobi?”_

Obi-Wan paused to take a sip of his tea. “I suppose so, yes.”

"That's ridiculous," Anakin said.

“Those are strong words coming from the fool who couldn't find me."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "You could have at least come up with something more original."

"What? Like _Darth Vader?"_

"First of all, I didn't even come up with the name. Secondly, at least Darth Vader _sounds_ cool."

Obi-Wan scoffed softly. "Ben Kenobi sounds nice."

"Ben Kenobi sounds like the name of a deadbeat droid engineer."

"Droid engineering is a noble occupation, Anakin."

He waved him off. “Sounds like something a droid engineer would say that.”

“Didn’t you make droids as a child?” Obi-Wan asked.

“That’s different,” Anakin insisted. “3PO was a side project, not my occupation. Doesn’t count.”

Obi-Wan leaned back. “Droid engineering isn’t _only_ a job, my old friend. It is a state of being. A lifestyle, if you will.”

Anakin blinked slowly at his words. “What does that even _mean?”_

The two continued to bicker as Ahsoka walked into the kitchen, gently putting her cup in the sink before taking a seat at the small dining table beside Rex. She watched his fingers drum against his commlink absently.

“I’m sure he’ll pick up soon," she assured. "He’s probably just busy.”

Rex sighed. “I know. It's just been a while since he's made contact."

Ahsoka put a comforting hand over his. “If something was wrong, Bail would have already reached me. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He gave a nod, and they sat in contented silence until Anakin stood from the couch abruptly. 

"Say that again, and I _will_ hit you with this pan." 

Obi-Wan turned the page on his book without looking up. "I would like to see you try."

Anakin gritted his teeth and swung the skillet with such _blazing_ _intensity_ —clearly not expecting it to shoot right back at him, colliding against his head with a resounding _whack._ Ahsoka grimaced as Obi-Wan he briefly looked up from his book to smirk.

"Are _you kidding me?"_ Anakin stumbled, rubbing the small bruise forming on his forehead with a scowl. "That is a _misuse_ of the _Force."_

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Anakin," Obi-Wan said nonchalantly. "Now, sit down. Your tea is getting cold."

Anakin turned on his heels and marched over to the overhead cabinet with a huff. "You are _so full of yourself_ I can't even _look_ at you." 

"What did you say?" Ahsoka asked Obi-Wan, who offered a shrug.

“I didn’t say anything."

Ahsoka flinched when the cabinet door behind her slammed shut, whipping her head around to see Anakin with his finger pointed toward Obi-Wan sharply.

_"Liar.”_

"Imp," Obi-Wan shot back, and Anakin scoffed before opening another cabinet. 

"Do you have _any_ food in here that isn’t dry?"

"Ah, yes, pardon me for not having the supplies to feed _three extra people_ with no notice," Obi-Wan said. "I rarely keep enough food on hand for _myself._ We can restock soon."

Anakin tipped his head back and sighed. “Not soon enough. My insides demand sustenance.” 

Ahsoka’s face scrunched. “Surely there are better ways to word it than that.”

Obi-Wan put his book to the side before grabbing his own mug and heading to the sink. Water weakly gushed from the faucet as he began rinsing a few of the piled dishes.

“Why don’t we just pick some up at Mos Eisley when we pick up the parts?” Rex asked, handing his empty mug to Obi-Wan at his prompting.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Too many Imperials. We would be better off purchasing from the local market.”

“We could split up,” Ahsoka suggested. “Anakin and I go to the market while you two go to Mos Eisley?”

Obi-Wan tapped a dish on the side of the sink before twisting the faucet again. "Are you sure of your way?"

"I think you're forgetting that I once lived here too," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan sighed. “All right, then. We’ll meet back here around 1600 to work on the ship. With any luck, we'll get it repaired before the week's end.”

»»««

"I imagine it's gonna bruise," Ahsoka commented. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Skywalker narrowed his eyes and suppressed a wince at the tug of his injured skin. "Just _fine,_ Ahsoka, thank you for asking."

While the local Tatooinian marketplace felt far less exciting than Mos Eisley, it was still busier than he preferred—too many people, too much chatter. The suns beamed down, blistering, miserable, and the hood over his head barely hindered the harsh rays from burning his skin more than it already was. 

The bacta that Kix provided him with had restored most of his faded complexion, but when the Jawas ransacked their supplies, they had taken all the medication that they had been sent with. Skywalker guessed he had enough to last him the week—Ahsoka made him stuff some into their shared 'pack before they left the ship the first time—but the supplies were scarce.

Speaking of. Ahsoka fell in step beside him, keeping her eyes low. "What were you talking about that got you so worked up anyway?"

"The weather."

She sighed. "All right. Message received."

They continued to walk through the marketplace, silently scoping out the booths and shops in search of the items on their list. Then, Skywalker suddenly halted, his eyes glued to a figure standing beneath one of the beige canopies.

"What's wrong?" Ahsoka prompted.

A pause. "I know that kid."

She gave a weird look. "You do?"

He nodded, and she followed him as he took a few steps closer.

“That’ll be eighteen credits," they overheard the merchant say, watching from a distance as the boy folded his arms. 

_“Eighteen?_ Last week they sold for ten.” 

"Look, buddy, I don't make the rules," he said. "Supply and demand. Parts like this are hard to come by on Tatooine."

"Galvin," the kid grumbled. "Come on, man. You know I don't have that kind of cash on me."

"Not my problem," he returned flatly. "Now, if you're not going to purchase anything, move it. You're holding up the line."

With a sigh, Skywalker's hands moved up to the small compartment on his belt. He shifted through his extra Imperial credits, drawing a select few of them into the sunlight before walking ahead of Ahsoka and plopping the payment down onto the counter.

"What's this?" the merchant asked tiredly.

"Eighteen credits," Skywalker replied, his tone matching the Advozse's. "That's enough to cover it, right?"

"What are you doing?" the kid asked sharply.

"Helping you out. What's it look like I'm doing?"

The merchant looked at the bars for a moment before sliding them into the satchel strung across his waist. He pushed the piece toward the boy. "There you go, kid." 

The boy grumbled. “Thanks.”

The merchant’s gaze flickered between the two of them before eventually landing on Skywalker. "I haven't seen you around here. You two related?"

"That's funny," Skywalker said dryly. He turned to the teen. "Come on, kid, let's go."

"See you next week, Galvin."

When Skywalker turned, however, he realized Ahsoka had somehow managed to disappear again. He let out a long-suffering sigh before taking off, eyes bouncing over the crowd of gathered sentients to search for her. The teen struggled to keep up with his quick strides.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said. “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I was making good progress. I would have convinced him eventually.”

Skywalker nearly laughed. “Not before you got thrown out onto the streets for not offering full price on that thing. He looked about two seconds away from chucking you under a speeder.”

The kid rolled his eyes. "It's a—"

"—Binary motivator. Yeah, I saw. What's a kid like you need a motivator for?"

"My uncle and I are fixing up a ship," he explained. "He says being able to travel planetwide will be good for business."

"Business?"

He nodded. “We’re moisture farmers.”

Skywalker‘s steps slowed. “I knew a few of those.”

“Maybe my uncle knows you then,” the kid said. “Are you from around here?"

"I wish I wasn’t,” he breathed.

The kid gave a weird look but didn’t question it further, continuing to follow Skywalker through the marketplace as he weaved his way through the crowd. "Thanks," he said finally. "You know, for paying. I'm sure my uncle would reimburse you if you asked."

Skywalker cast a glance over to him. "Don't worry about it, kid. You needed it more than I did."

“Hey, sorry for running off.” Skywalker spun around to see Ahsoka standing with a small crate of food. “I thought I’d make myself useful while you did whatever you needed to over there.”

“Did you get everything on the list?”

“Nearly everything. I have two items that I couldn’t find, but I’m sure we could do without them.” She turned her attention to the kid. “So. Who’s this?”

Skywalker suddenly realized he never caught the kid’s name. Unfortunately, when he turned to ask him, Skywalker only found a set of wide blue eyes glued to Ahsoka. 

“You're the prettiest sentient I've ever seen,” the kid suddenly blurted out.

Both of Ahsoka's eyebrows raised. She opened her mouth to reply, but Skywalker beat her to it. “She's way too old for you, sleemo.”

The kid scoffed indignantly before putting on a smile. “I’m Luke,” he said, looking between the two of them. “What are your names?”

Skywalker swallowed dryly at the question. Word traveled far too fast on Tatooine for him to offer his real name, but unfortunately, they hadn’t discussed cover names yet. “My name is..." His gaze drifted over to Ahsoka, who raised her brows expectantly. "Bail."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes but nodded slowly, turning back to Luke. "And I'm Leia."

Then the kid made a face. Skywalker could only assume he was trying to smirk. “I’ve always liked the name Leia."

Skywalker resisted the urge to gag. 

"Luke is a nice name too," Ahsoka offered kindly, albeit uncomfortably, and Luke beamed at her words.

“You think so?"

She nodded, bumping Skywalker's shoulder with hers. "Go on, Bail, tell him." 

"It's a name all right," he said, but Ahsoka looked at him as though she expected something more. He narrowed his eyes. "It's a good name?"

Luke looked down at the motivator with a sigh. “I should probably get going. My uncle is expecting me back at the homestead.”

Skywalker folded his arms again. "Well, best not to keep him waiting."

Luke looked to Ahsoka with a smirk. "Until next time," he said politely. He turned, gracefully striding down the sandstone path until he stumbled over his left foot.

"Nice," Skywalker called.

The kid cupped his hands on the sides of his mouth, his voice cracking unceremoniously as he yelled, _"Kriff you, old man!"_

Skywalker snickered to himself. "Come on, Snips. Let’s head back.”

The two of them took turns carrying the crate on their way to Obi-Wan’s, wordlessly treading through the coarse sand as they followed the same path they took earlier. Around the halfway point, however, the hairs on the back of Skywalker’s neck stood tall, noticing the several sets of eyes watching them.

“Do you sense that?” Ahsoka asked.

He gave a sharp nod. "Tuskens,” he said tensely. “They’re waiting for us to get into a low visibility area."

She looked over to him, eyes slightly more widened than usual. “What do we do?"

He grabbed onto the lightsaber hooked on his belt, catching sight of the few hidden within the natural dips of the terrain. “We draw them out."

“Anakin,” she said lowly, warningly, the crate held steadily in her hands. He gritted his teeth.

“I’ll go quick. They won’t feel a thing.”

“Surely there’s another way,” she insisted. “We scared them off in the gorge.”

“Only temporarily,” he reminded her, his blood beginning to boil beneath his skin. "They're _animals,_ Ahsoka. Even if we don’t kill them, someone else will eventually.”

“I don’t like the feeling of blood on my hands, Anakin,” she said firmly. “I won’t kill them unless it’s our last option."

The heavy, predatory stares that the Tuskens fixed on them made him uneasy. "Now is not the time to be sentimental. They're not worth your sympathy."

"They're living beings just as we are."

He finally paused, reeling in a shallow breath and pressing his lips into a line as he came back to his senses.

_Stop for a moment,_ he reminded himself. _Think._

His anger had gotten him nowhere. After reflecting on all of the misery and the turmoil that his actions had brought, he had finally come to terms with that. 

The yearning for justice remained within him—one that wanted to slice through them just as he did when his mother died, killing them for the sins of their ancestors—but he knew, begrudgingly, it wouldn’t bring him the satisfaction he so desperately sought after. Killing them would do nothing. It wouldn't bring his mother back. It wouldn't fill the void in his chest. It would only hold him in place.

“All right.”

His hand slowly dropped to his side. 

“We don’t have to kill,” he continued, “but what else can we do? Without our weapons, we’re outnumbered.”

Ahsoka pondered for a moment, the crate tapping against her legs with every step she took. “Put them under. It will give us enough time to get out of here without having to harm them.” 

Skywalker sifted through her words before responding, “I sense seven of them. Three on the left, two on the right, one front, one back.”

“Eight,” she added, giving a nod to the side. “Look over there.”

He glanced over to where a Tusken hid on top of a sandstone wedge, his gaderffii drawn. “Eight,” he breathed in agreement. “We’ll have to go fast.”

“You up for it, Skyguy?”

“Don’t call me that,” he replied mildly, eyes flickering between the Tuskens. “Get ready."

Ahsoka tossed the crate of food into the air, extending a hand to keep it hovering beside them. She pressed her back against his and narrowed her eyes. 

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm starting to think we should have asked for the speeder."

Then the Tuskens charged, with loud snarls and raised gaderffiis, speeding through the sand to get to the two of them.

Skywalker outstretched his arm once one of them got close enough, willing wisps of kinetic energy into its mind. After the link was secure, he twisted his hand, and the Tusken dropped to the ground—alive but unconscious, per Ahsoka’s request.

Ahsoka did the same to the two rushing her. "Catch," she called, flicking her wrist to launch the crate into the air for him to grab. He used the Force to keep the food inside upright, and it floated above them as Ahsoka gently took the cognizance away from another Tusken.

Skywalker whirled around when two more came toward him, extending a hand and inching into their minds until they slumped.

One left. Ahsoka's brows furrowed as she reached for the Tusken on the ledge, directing a beam of energy toward the creature. She let out a startled noise when the Tusken fell forward instead of back—before it could touch the ground, however, Skywalker shot a hand out, bending the Force around it to break its fall. Once the unconscious Tusken had landed in the sand safely, he tossed her a look.

"I thought we weren't trying to kill them?"

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, and Skywalker smirked slightly as he brought the crate down from the sky, letting it land in front of her.

"You're carrying it the rest of the way there."

Her face scrunched and she opened her mouth to respond before her eyes drifted to the horizon. “Looks like I won’t have to,” she said smugly. 

Skywalker followed her gaze as a red landspeeder came into view. He grumbled under his breath when Obi-Wan and Rex pulled up beside them, bearing a net full of ship parts on top of the vehicle. 

“Seems like you two had your fun," Obi-Wan said, his arm casually sprawled over the side of the speeder.

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. “You’re a little late to the party.”

“Pity. I’ll aim to be more punctual next time.”

Ahsoka smiled. "Mind if we catch a ride?"

After she received a nod of approval, she strapped the crate down and climbed into an open spot in the speeder, conscious to leave enough room for Skywalker beside the pieces. Obi-Wan killed the engine once the speeder halted in front of the damaged ship. They headed to the back of the vehicle and pulled at the webbed material into the sand.

As they sorted through the pieces, Rex's commlink suddenly chirped to life:

_"Rex, it's Kix. Do you copy?"_

Rex lifted his wrist and held a button on the comm. "I copy. Good to hear from you, brother."

_"You too. Sorry it took so long to get back to ya. Skywalker's old droids accidentally annihilated the communication tower yesterday, and we finally got the lines encrypted again."_

"My what?" Skywalker asked, but Ahsoka shushed him before he could get an answer.

_"I got your message about the ship. Any progress?"_

"Kenobi and I picked up the parts earlier, but not many updates other than that. We’re hoping to get it repaired by next week.”

 _"Been a minute since this line has been active,”_ a voice suddenly joined them in the comms. _“You two took your sweet time.”_

Rex sighed. "Hello to you too, Wolffe."

_“What are you ladies talking about?”_

“Our ship got ransacked.”

A sharp exhale. _“Tough luck.”_

“Thanks,” he replied mildly. “Gregor there too?”

_“Yeah, he’s right—Gregor, get over here—right here.”_

Rex smiled. “How is Seelos treating you?”

_“Never better,”_ Gregor said. “ _I got ahold of a Joopa nest for lunch yesterday.”_

 _“How are things with you, Kix?”_ Wolffe asked.

_“Can’t complain. Lewis and I played sabacc during the outage.”_

Gregor gave a crazed laugh. _“Did ya win?”_

_“Unimportant.”_

Ahsoka followed Skywalker when he stood and walked over to the ship again. “We should get started,” he said. “Tell Rex to meet me in the flight deck once he’s done.”

“What should I do?"

Skywalker gestured around the ship grimly, vaguely, and she gave a nod. 

“Got it.”

Over the next few rotations, nearly every waking moment was spent on the ship. They took shifts working on repairs, and with all the time spent together, Skywalker struggled to keep his distance from Obi-Wan. He tried to avoid working beside him the best he could, but Ahsoka seemed determined to get them to talk. 

It had been subtle at first—she insisted on making a schedule so that could stay on track, then altered it so that the two of them always seemed to operate on the same section at the same time—and the only thing he could do was hope that it would end there. 

Of course, nothing was ever that simple for Skywalker. Her attempts only grew more and more irritating, and he tried to school the childish betrayal he felt toward Rex once he was inevitably dragged in on it as well. 

But it was fine. He could stay silent and do his job, and pretend Obi-Wan was anyone else as they worked on the ship. It was only temporary. The sooner the ship was fixed, the sooner they could leave. 

So he tried his best to ignore it, supposing that she was bound to take the hint eventually. The longer it dragged on, however, the more he began to question that. It seemed that the attempts had finally reached their peak when he and Obi-Wan were repairing the navicomputer.

Skywalker stood in front of the blast door that had suddenly sealed behind them a few moments before. "Snips," he started with a strained smile, "open the door."

"Not until you mend your differences."

Skywalker curled his fingers into his palms. "Ahsoka, _I swear to Force,_ if you don't open this door _right now_ I will tie you to a speeder, set the _kriffing auto-pilot,_ and drive you off a cliff.”

"We'll be back at sundown,” she said. “Try not to kill each other while we're gone."

"Ahsoka, don't you dare—" The footsteps faded. He slammed a fist against the metal door. "That _kriffing womp rat."_

Obi-Wan watched as he shook the sting out of his hand. "Hm, not hard enough. Perhaps you should try again."

Skywalker scowled and cradled his fingers. "I bet you're having a blast with this."

"It's certainly not unpleasant."

“Am I to assume this was your idea?” he asked.

"Well, of course. It’s right beside me conspiring with the Jawas and playing dress-up with the Sandpeople.”

Skywalker bit the inside of his cheek before angrily ramming a shoulder into the door to unfix it. The room rang at the impact.

“Oh, bravo, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "You've truly outdone yourself this time—putting a dent in the durasteel. Perhaps the door will open now that you've broken it."

“I could do without the commentary,” he hissed through his teeth as his fingers skidded over the trim. It was no use, he soon realized, as the door was jammed from the outside—but the idea of being stuck in a room with Obi-Wan made him feel far too uneasy to sit still, so he tried again anyway. 

Skywalker let out a sharp breath when a pain suddenly shot through his chest, a rather harsh reminder that he was still recovering from surgery, and Obi-Wan’s smug expression suddenly fell.

“Are you all right?”

Skywalker screwed his eyes shut in discomfort. “Perfect.”

“Sit down.”

"Don’t tell me what to—“

 _“Sit,”_ Obi-Wan repeated. “That door isn’t going to open until they open it for us. It's best not to waste your energy.”

He begrudgingly sat across from Obi-Wan, tipping his head back into the worn pilot's seat and closing his eyes. They remained in uncomfortable silence for a solid two minutes before Obi-Wan finally broke it.

"Will you stop that?"

Skywalker cracked his eyes open with an uninterested look. "Stop what?"

"Gritting your teeth. It's not good for you." 

He rolled his eyes and tried to get comfortable again. After a while of useless shifting, he let out an annoyed huff. “Why are you so relaxed?"

"Because, Anakin, I have learned how to adapt to circumstances that I cannot control. You have never been able to understand that."

Skywalker scoffed, raking a hand over his head. "Your condescension never ceases to amaze me, _Master."_

"Not everything is to be taken as an attack. I'm only being honest."

"You just think you're so above everyone, don't you?" Skywalker straightened. "I bet we all look rather small from that high horse of knowledge you like to sit on."

"Do you truly want to do this now?" 

"Well, they're not going to let us out until we do.”

Obi-Wan sighed. "Very well," he said. "The floor is yours, Anakin. If you have something to say, now is the time to do it."

As the invisible spotlight suddenly beamed down on him, he paused, sifting through the thoughts in his mind that always hovered but never breached the surface. The complacency, the lies, the hypocrisy. All of the things he was scorned after mentioning as a Padawan.

But _now_ —now, he was able to speak freely in front of Obi-Wan. His former Master, the very _embodiment_ of the Jedi Council, the living and unrelenting reminder of the depravity it wore so proudly

One hour didn't seem like enough time.

"You never knew how to think for yourself," he decided to start with, unsure of how to fully articulate the anger he felt toward the man sitting in front of him so casually.

“Is that so?”

"You stood with the Council despite the obvious corruption within the system.” Skywalker scowled. “The Order was rotting from the inside out, and I was the only one that noticed it.

“Those are rather bold words,” Obi-Wan commented.

“It seems only fitting,” he bit back. "Did you ever ask yourself how they never sensed the evil in the Chancellor? The most corrupt Sith Lord we had ever seen and even the most Force-Sensitive members of our Council couldn't tell who he really was." 

Obi-Wan stayed silent, so he took the opportunity to continue, "It’s because they were no better than he was,” he said. “They couldn't sense the darkness because they reveled in it _long_ before the Chancellor ever did. If they hadn’t, the war would have never taken place.”

Obi-Wan leaned back and stroked his beard, and Skywalker watched him carefully.

The silence shouldn’t have worried him. He only spoke the truth. Besides, he didn't care what Obi-Wan thought of him anymore. He could view him as lost or ignorant, and it wouldn't change anything. Skywalker already made his choice.

So he let his hands shake and ignored the bothersome shiver that seemed to attach itself to his spine to keep from acknowledging that deep down, suppressed to the very depths of his soul, he did care. Whether it was drilled into him as a Jedi or something of a true instinct, he cared because the man that sat before him, his hair greyed and his eyes weary, was once his closest friend. Through the years of war and hardship that dragged on for what felt like lifetimes, he was there.

Yet, though he was present, he still felt out of reach. 

The perfect Jedi. The one Master on the Council that seldomly compromised his values, the one that kept the Code held closer than anyone. Skywalker knew he would never compare to his preceptor—not in this life, nor any other. He understood that no matter what he did, what choices he made, Obi-Wan would always be a better Jedi than him.

Obi-Wan never allowed his attachments to influence him too deeply. He could compartmentalize and channel his affections—a skill that Skywalker had still yet to hone. If he didn’t allow his feelings for Satine to make him call the Code into question, what chance did Skywalker have, convincing him to allow his relationship with Padmé? His Master’s devotion to the Council forced him to rid himself of all that made him human—yet, when doubt was cast, somehow _Skywalker_ became the one that was lost.

He watched as Obi-Wan finally sat up again to meet his expectant gaze. A beat of heavy silence passed, and Skywalker held eye contact to give the illusion of composure, forcing himself to remain still under the irritatingly nonchalant stare directed toward him

"You're right,” Obi-Wan said, and with just two simple words, Skywalker’s mind completely stalled. He blinked a few times.

_“Come again?”_

Obi-Wan sighed. "You're right, Anakin,” he said again, but even after he repeated himself, Skywalker had to wonder if he heard him correctly. “The Council was corrupted. I'm ashamed to say that I only noticed after it was too late."

Skywalker all but sputtered. "I'm—I'm sorry. I need a minute to process this.”

Another sigh. “It would be wise to pick your jaw up from the floor before a bug flies down your throat.”

Not for the first time, Skywalker ignored his comment. “You agree with me?” he said instead, hesitantly, his eyes narrowed.

“On this matter, I suppose I do.” Obi-Wan looked increasingly annoyed at his questioning. “However, that does not mean I condone the course of action you took. You still have much to answer for."

Skywalker nodded absently, still trying to wrap his head around everything being thrown at him.

"While I don't feel I owe you an explanation, I will offer it to you anyway, as I believe it is the only way either of us will ever truly move on,” Obi-Wan said. "I have had more than enough time to think since the war has ended. At first, it was all far too upsetting—but as time has passed, the pain has dulled, and I have found peace within myself."

Skywalker slumped back into his seat, keeping his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan intently as he continued, "I did not always agree with the Council. Many times, I had found myself questioning their methods—even so, I never questioned their intentions behind them." He finally met Skywalker's eyes again. "I suppose that is where we differ, Anakin. You had too little faith in them, and I had too much."

"I suppose so," Skywalker agreed quietly.

A moment of silence passed.

"I must ask," Obi-Wan started, an overwhelming air of hesitation around him as he furrowed his brows. "After everything that’s happened, all that you’ve done—how can you still sleep at night?"

His voice did not hold the same haughtiness that it had before. Instead, it was low and soft, a silent plea for closure. Skywalker found himself unable to see the words directed toward him as a threat.

"I haven't had a peaceful night since the war," he admitted, despite knowing that he was more than likely to regret it later. For just a moment, he allowed himself to express what was in his mind. "I tried to convince myself it was because of her death, but it was much more than that."

Obi-Wan watched him. "Do you regret it?"

“Not all of it," he replied, "but I wouldn't say I'm proud either. I suppose I don't really know where I stand yet."

They remained in the silence for a little while longer. Obi-Wan’s eyes dimmed and his expression turned heavy.

“I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Skywalker looked over at him tiredly. “I wasn’t asking for an apology.”

“I am offering one anyway,” Obi-Wan paused. “I wasn’t there when it mattered most. I’ve come to realize that despite my best intentions, I never offered a safe place for you to confide in. I’m sorry for making you feel as though you couldn’t trust me.”

Skywalker’s harsh gaze wavered.

A single apology wouldn’t make up for all that he had endured because of him.

Whether or not he knew it, Obi-Wan played a pivotal role in why he turned to the Chancellor in the first place. Skywalker sought the approval, desperately, albeit recklessly, of anyone that offered it—because, he supposed, if Obi-Wan couldn’t take pride in him, he would find someone that could.

Even still, something about the tone Obi-Wan used felt so deeply _genuine_ that it made him question, even if it was only for a moment, whether or not his anger was founded. What he saw before him varied drastically from what he remembered of his old Master.

So, he stopped.

_Perhaps,_ he allowed himself to think, _his perception of Obi-Wan had been mistaken._

"I still don't like you," Skywalker said eventually, though his voice was void of any real malice. It was all he could offer at the moment.

Obi-Wan gave a small, lighthearted laugh. It looked like he wanted to say something else—but he stayed silent, content with the progress made.

They sat in the ship until the suns finally set. 

»»««

_“What is the report?”_

“Skywalker is not in the Elrood nor the Bajic Sector. That is all I have to report.”

The Emperor shifted in the holo, his fingers tapping against his armrest impatiently. _“I thought you would be able to find him swiftly.”_

“I’m going as swiftly as I can,” the apprentice said, his voice struggling to remain impassive under the daunting stare of the Emperor. “Forgive me if my searching has taken longer than expected. I _am_ trying to find a single criminal in a galaxy of millions of planets, after all.”

The Emperor scowled. _“Perhaps I overestimated your abilities.”_

The man faltered slightly. “No,” he said, “I will double my search. You will not be disappointed.”

The Emperor eyed him. _“If I find that you are incompetent, I will not hesitate to take over the project myself.”_

”That won’t be necessary,” he insisted, then paused, looking at the Emperor earnestly. “Worry not. I will make you proud.”

_“Find him!”_

His voice echoed through the palace’s corridor, and the holo flickered once before dying. The man let out a breath through his teeth, tugging the dark hood off of his head and letting it fall to the ground.

“Is everything all right?” 

At the soft voice, he turned to face the woman standing in the doorway. “Of course, my love,” he replied. “Why are you awake at such a late hour?”

She hesitated for a moment. Moonlight seeped through the cracks of the drawn curtains, lighting the room just enough to see the long brown hair that laid loosely over her shoulders. 

“It's nothing,” she said finally, forcing her hands to her sides to keep them from fidgeting with her nightgown. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

His expression softened. “Well, let's get you to your room. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She smiled. “We always do.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> broo not me reformatting this entire fic in four hours.. >:)
> 
> i am: so sorry it feels like i never update anymore i swear im always working behind the scenes. i think im going to try to update every other week so i can get the Quality Content instead of the consistent content. i always feel much happier w the end result if i have more time to work on it :)
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!! i appreciate all the kind comments and criticisms v much and i hope u enjoyed this chapter <3 get ready bc things are about to get crazy next chapter *mega smirks*


	10. Chapter 10

_The Galactic Senate Chamber was filled to the brim with people. Skywalker stood alone on one of the circular platforms, looking around at the hundreds of senators and representatives alike perched atop their own disks, listening intently to the discussant hovering near the center._

_Padmé._

_Her eyes steadily scanned the crowd as she spoke, comfortably delivering the message to her fellow senators._

_“Rest assured that Naboo will continue to support Coruscant as long as we remain allies," she said. "The treaties put in place are of the utmost importance to our people, and I firmly believe that the bridges forged between us are the key to our progression."_

_He waited for the dream to twist into a nightmare—only, the screaming he expected, the agony he awaited, never came. The scene played out normally, a vivid memory that only served to put him further on edge._

_Skywalker's movements were hazy as he leaned forward. "You said I needed to help you," he called out. "Tell me how."_

_At his words, a low rumbling emerged beneath his feet. His gaze dropped for a split second; when he looked back up, the room was completely empty. The senators that once crowded the room had disappeared in an instant—all except Padmé. She continued her discourse, seemingly unaware of the emptiness around her._

_“Many lies have been uncovered. Some of which told to us by our closest allies. But we must persevere in the face of adversity." Her eyes flickered to his. "I will be put in my grave before I allow these injustices to hinder us from moving forward."_

_Then the room was filled once more. The senators offered their applause, and her voice faded into nothingness as the dream came to an end._

»»««

"I want to visit her grave."

Everything went silent; dishes clattered, and small talk ceased abruptly. Rex and Ahsoka exchanged a look as Obi-Wan slowly set his spoon down.

"I'm sorry?"

Skywalker met his eyes evenly, lowering his own dish. "I want to visit her grave," he repeated.

Obi-Wan sat back to stroke his beard, a subtle disturbance hovering in the Force around him. "I suppose the ship is finally back in its proper condition," he said after a brief pause. "If that is what you wish, I cannot keep you from doing so."

Skywalker looked at him, opting to hide his surprise behind suspicion. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Obi-Wan stood to put his dish in the sink, grabbing the disregarded pieces of silverware and stacking them on top. "However," he continued over his shoulder, "I believe I should go as well."

Skywalker's eyes narrowed. "On what planet is that not considered a catch?" 

Obi-Wan didn't respond as he tipped the faucet downward and dried his hands. Once he neatly put the cloth to the side, he sat among the three of them again. Skywalker sat back and crossed his arms.

"I would think you'd want us out of your hair by now," he said. "After all, the ship is repaired and ready to travel. We could leave if you asked us to."

"I suppose you've grown on me," Obi-Wan replied dryly. “Now, eat. Your food is getting cold.”

The next rotation, Skywalker stood beside Ahsoka as Obi-Wan finished stuffing their backpack with supplies.

“Is all that really necessary?” he asked tiredly. “We’re only going to be gone for the day.”

“One can never be too safe, Anakin.”

He furrowed his brows. “How long has it been since you last left Tatooine?” 

Obi-Wan stilled suddenly. “A very long time.”

He went back to packing, a small tremor in his hands.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka said. He looked up at her. “Are you okay? You seem troubled.”

“I’m quite all right, thank you.” His eyes scanned the room to be sure he wasn’t missing anything, landing on the lightsaber tucked away on a sandstone shelf.

“You should take it.” Skywalker tipped his head toward it. “Just in case.”

Obi-Wan held his gaze for a moment before nodding. He walked over to the shelf in a few simple strides, grabbing the hilt and hiding it inside his brown robe. When they were all packed, they drove the landspeeder down to the ship.

Ahsoka peaked her head into the lowered bay door. “How does it look up there, Rex?” 

“Not perfect, but it should get the job done,” he called from the cockpit. Obi-Wan settled into the seat behind him, and once Ahsoka entered, Skywalker sat behind her.

Rex flicked a switch to lift the door and pulled up on the steering, dusting kicked out from underneath the ship as they rose and slowly took off into the sky.

"Skrag," Rex suddenly blurted under his breath. Ahsoka leaned forward. 

"What is it?"

"Clearance codes. They’re required to get into Naboo, and we won’t have anything to transfer." He peered over his shoulder to look at Skywalker. "Should we turn back around?"

Skywalker's eyes bouncing over the console for a second. "No," he decided, "I'll use an old code to bypass their gate control." 

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” 

"It's about as good as I have at the moment." He turned his attention back to the viewports. "Set course for Naboo. I'll tell you the sequence once we reach the port."

Rex hesitated. ”If you say so." 

He logged the coordinates into the navicomputer, glancing over to Ahsoka for approval before hitting the hyperdrive. They lurched forward, and the base of the ship rattled at the sudden velocity.

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face.

“I’ve nearly forgotten how much I hate flying," he muttered.

Skywalker gave a side glance. "You were the one that insisted on coming."

“I’ll be fine soon, I’m sure,” Obi-Wan shot back, and Skywalker regarded him for a brief moment before turning his head again.

“Keep your eyes forward and find something to focus on. It helps with the turbulence.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “I taught you that."

“I listened to you on occasion," Skywalker replied dryly before leaning forward. "How's she holding up, Rex?"

"So far, so good." The captain flicked a few overhead switches, and they came out of hyperspeed with a jolt, slowing until the ship only hovered in one area. The inevitable beeping of their comms didn't startle any of them.

_"Approaching starship, this is gate control. Please transmit your clearance code."_

Rex looked over to Skywalker as he slowly relayed the code. Once he finished the last digit, Rex sent it through to the operator and sat back, anxiously awaiting the response. A heavy beat of silence passed before the ship's comms came back to life.

_"You are cleared for entry. Enjoy your stay on Naboo."_

A unanimous breath of relief followed as they slipped past the gate to reach the atmosphere.

»»««

“Sir, we’ve just received an alert from central control. There has been an unauthorized usage of one of our codes in the Mid-Rim."

The Imperial officer looked into the pit. "Do we have eyes on the ship?"

"Yes, sir," the operator said. "It is in the Chommel system. They've just entered Naboo."

He hummed. "Send a probe out to investigate."

»»««

During the war, Skywalker had traveled to planets all across the galaxy—from the plains of Hisseen to the canyons of Anaxes—but to him, nothing could ever compare to Naboo. Something about the inhabitants and the environment always made him feel at peace, with the meadows and rivers that stretched for miles, and the beautiful vineyards that sat behind the palace.

But now, as he flew above the planet he once wanted to call home, all he felt was heaviness. Skywalker looked out of the viewports as blurred trees sped past them, his chest tightening with anxiety.

"Are you all right, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

Skywalker hesitated.

"It's been a long time since I've been here," he admitted. "I've almost forgotten what it looked like."

The ship slowly eased down on the planet's surface. Once they alighted, Ahsoka peered through the viewports and scanned the area.

"Someone should stay here to keep the ship running," Skywalker said as he unlatched his harness. "We'll only have so much time once they realize we've gotten through."

Rex gave a nod and drew a device out from the compartment on his left. "There are four of us. Two of us go, two stay. Simple. This commlink is already synced to the ship so we can communicate."

Ahsoka turned to Skywalker. "Obi-Wan and I can keep watch. We'll fill you in if anything happens."

Skywalker nodded, and Rex flicked a switch to lower the bay door as Ahsoka stood to see them out. Before they could leave, she put a hand on Skywalker's arm to signal for him to stop. "Are you sure you're ready?"

He held her gaze. "I'll never be ready."

Ahsoka paused, then let him go with a soft nod. "Be safe."

With that, they stepped off the ramp, and Skywalker's dark cloak drifted with the breeze as they walked toward the daunting mausoleum. There were various flowers laid alongside the gravestones that lined the clearing, each holding a name Skywalker wasn't close enough to see.

But he could feel them. The Force, the ebbing and flowing of energy that persisted even after death. Memories of past lives that hovered in the air—not vivid images, but feelings. His heart pounded as they neared the stone building.

"What are we going to do about the guard?" Rex asked.

"Kill him," Skywalker deadpanned. He noticed the uneasy look on Rex's face a moment too late. "Wait, no, it's—that was a joke. I was joking."

Rex didn't seem convinced. Skywalker sighed. 

"Just—never mind. I'll handle him." They continued walking on the narrow pathway that led to the doors. Once they reached the bottom of the steps, the Nabooian guard moved in front of them.

"I'm sorry, sir. This is a restricted area."

Skywalker's fingers flexed behind his back. "Your shift has ended, and you want to go home."

The guard stayed still. For a moment, Skywalker was almost worried that it didn't work—but slowly, the man began to nod to himself.

"My shift has ended, and I want to go home."

As the guard started to walk away, Rex quietly snatched the keys from his belt, walking up the steps to unlock the doors as the man wandered down the pathway. 

“You never did that to me, did you?” Rex asked over his shoulder.

“Never needed to," Skywalker replied, turning his head back to the doors once the guard was out of sight. "Did you get it?"

Rex twisted the key and rattled the handle a few times before it unlocked. "There," he muttered. "Got it."

Skywalker wiped his clammy palms off on his black pants and set his jaw as the door slowly cracked open. His breath caught in his throat when Rex put a hand on his shoulder.

“We can always go back to the ship, you know," he said gently. "You don’t have to do this.”

Skywalker considered turning back—but before he could think too deeply, his trembling hands had already landed on the handles. His eyes stung as he stepped inside, Rex following right behind him.

The interior of the mausoleum was rather large—with a high, vaulted ceiling and grey walls stretched back no less than thirty feet on each side. Light seeped in through the colorful stained-glass portrait of Padmé, casting a tinted glow on the stone coffin that sat in the middle of the room.

Skywalker bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly walked toward it. Two pillars stood on either side of the stained-glass window, each holding a bouquet of dead roses on top of them. Grief filled his heart. 

A small moment of silence stretched into several. He slowly reached out and put a hand on the stone.

"What happened to her?" Rex asked quietly.

Skywalker stood beside the coffin that held the woman he loved, his knees threatening to bend beneath him, the guilt endlessly trickling into his mind suddenly becoming too much to bear. 

"I killed her," he admitted, his voice barely hanging above a whisper. 

His heart felt heavy under the weight of his words. The pain he felt was like a relic of his past, only greater. Deeper. It seeped into his soul, filling every corner and dip with regret as he looked down at the coffin again. The Nabooian emblem ingrained within the stone brought him both a sense of comfort and immeasurable torment. 

"She was only trying to help." Skywalker blinked harshly as the room blurred. "He said I could save her, and I believed him. I was too desperate to question it."

He swallowed and looked down, his mind grasping for some semblance of closure, some relief from the ache. He was only reminded that in the end, even after everything he sacrificed to stop it, he became the very cause of what he desperately tried to prevent—and that in itself was a fate far worse than death. 

“Can I have a moment alone?”

Rex watched him for a moment before nodding. “I’ll be at the door.”

Skywalker listened to the footsteps until they slowly faded away, unable to tear his eyes away from the stone coffin.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered.

The pain never mended itself. The guilt weighed on his soul everywhere he went, always living in the back of his mind, reminding him of the choices he made and what he caused. No amount of power or killing could ever ease the sorrow within him.

He only wished he could have noticed sooner.

A thousand words pressed against his teeth, but none of them reached the light. Every apology and lamentation in his mouth ran dry as he ran a hand over the stone.

Then, Skywalker slowly withdrew it.

He stumbled back in shock, his brows furrowed, his mind reeling, before stepping forward once more to place his hand on the coffin again. 

He couldn't feel anything. Neither life nor death came from whatever was inside—no Force, no energy, no evidence of any previous life—it was completely blank. 

He didn’t look up when Rex entered. “Something's wrong." 

»»««

"You seem tense."

"I'm fine, Ahsoka."

The two of them had moved places after Rex and Anakin left—Ahsoka sat in the pilot's seat, and Obi-Wan sat beside her. She watched him sadly. “You’re worried about him.”

That wasn’t completely untrue. Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “I suppose I am.”

Ahsoka sighed. “I hope he finds what he needs in there.”

Obi-Wan glanced over to her, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. “Me too."

They sat in silence. 

"You look pale." Ahsoka looked at him in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Guilt trickled into his conscience. Obi-Wan shifted in his seat, nervously clearing his throat to speak before he caught sight of something just beyond the horizon.

"What is that?" he asked softly. 

Ahsoka leaned forward, her eyes widening at the sight. "Those are TIE fighters."

»»««

Skywalker hands hovered above the coffin, his fingers shaking subtly as he focused his energy on shifting the gravestone. After a moment, it moved, the grating sound making both of them wince, and Skywalker slowly dropped his gaze down to the body inside.

"What the..." Rex trailed when he peered over his shoulder to get a glimpse.

Skywalker couldn’t breathe.

He stared down at his wife, her body inanimate and cold but… it was _preserved_ —perfectly intact despite the years spent inside. Her soft porcelain skin looked faded, yet there was not a single sign of decay otherwise. She remained just as beautiful as she once was—verging on artificial, certainly not natural—as though she was only resting until the sun rose again.

Skywalker brought a palm to his temple, blinking harshly to sharpen his thoughts, his breathing shallow and ragged. The japor snippet that he once gave her was held in its cold hands, the wooden pendant causing him to shrink back.

“Skywalker," Rex whispered, "look."

Skywalker turned around shakily, his gaze landing on a probe droid that silently hovered in the upper corner of the room. The glass dial blinked at them, the red flashes cutting through the dark shadows and dimly illuminating the five dangling, robotic limbs below it.

“They've been watching this whole time," Rex scowled. 

The commlink on his wrist chimed, and Ahsoka's panicked voice suddenly accompanied theirs: _"Anakin, Rex, there are Imperials everywhere."_

Obi-Wan's followed. _"We have to go now!”_

The probe's blaster activated—but before it fired, Rex drew his pistols. The shrill sound of blasterfire echoed off the walls of the mausoleum as Skywalker numbly stared at the open coffin, his knees wobbling beneath him. He slowly reached down and took the japor snippet into his hands.

Rex hissed in pain when one of the blasts hit him in the arm, singeing the skin beneath his right shoulder plate. "Skywalker," he growled. "I could use some help over here."

Without looking up, Skywalker grabbed onto it through the Force and rolled his fingers into a tight fist, causing the droid to crumble. Rex's eyes scanned the room as the parts clattered to the ground, scattering across the floor. 

"Thanks," he muttered. They both quickly made their way out of the mausoleum, running down the steps and toward the ship. It hovered just outside of the cemetery, the ramp already lowered.

"What happened?" Ahsoka yelled from the cockpit once they entered, but Skywalker couldn't find the words to speak. She pulled up, raising the bay door and speeding into the sky as he and Rex strapped in.

"They're on our tail," Rex warned as he pressed down on his arm to add pressure to the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers.

The loud shrieks of TIE fighters followed them into the atmosphere, zipping by them as they broke through. Once they entered open space, a set of green bolts hurled toward them. Ahsoka veered the ship to the side, just barely avoiding getting shot down, and she swerved to dodge the next a moment too late. The ship jerked when the blast hit them.

"I can't shake them!" Ahsoka yelled. Rex stood unsteadily and lowered the gunning rack. 

"Get me a clear shot," he said.

Skywalker saw Ahsoka nod and swerve the ship again. "Anakin, tap in the coordinates for Tatooine," she ordered. It took him a moment to process her words, but once he did, he leaned forward, relying on muscle memory to follow the instructions. 

"Get ready, Rex," Ahsoka said. She twisted the steering wheel to the left, giving Rex a clear shot, and he fired. One of the TIE fighters whirled aimlessly at the impact, spinning for a few seconds before exploding.

"Nice shot," she called out. "Two more to go."

Skywalker finished logging in the coordinates just as the second TIE fighter went up in flames. Their ship was taking heavy damage. It rattled dangerously with every hit, the ground shuddering beneath their feet.

Once Rex hit the final fighter, Ahsoka punched the hyperdrive. The ship jolted, stars warping and stretching in front of them as they returned to the Tatoo system. 

The trip back felt much longer than it truly was. Skywalker's hands still shook as he numbly tried to process all that had taken place. When they finally reached Tatooine, Ahsoka lowered the ship on the hill below Obi-Wan's hut and killed the engine. It remained silent until she finally stood. 

"Come on, Rex, let's get that patched up."

She grabbed the first aid kit and they sat on the ramp beside Obi-Wan. Skywalker barely made it out of the ship before he started pacing. The three watched silently, waiting for him to speak.

"She wasn't there," he finally managed through the tightness of his throat. Ahsoka looked over at him as she wiped Rex's arm with a bacta pad. 

"What do you mean?"

Skywalker grabbed his head tightly, trying to keep it from spinning. "It—it was a fake. It wasn't her. She wasn't there."

Her hands stilled. "How is that possible?" 

"I don't know." Skywalker's chest heaved. "I don't know. I don't _know."_

Rex winced when Ahsoka wrapped a bandage around his arm. "Isn't cremation a custom on Naboo? Maybe that has something to do with it."

"They would have just put the urn inside the mausoleum instead. They wouldn't bother with a casket." Skywalker traced a path into the sand as he walked back and forth. "It doesn’t—none of this makes any _sense."_

Obi-Wan finally stood and made his way over to where Skywalker paced. "Anakin, take a breath."

Skywalker whirled around to face him. "We were the only ones there when she died. You had to have been the one to bring her back to Naboo."

Obi-Wan set his jaw. "I did."

"Who did you leave her with?" Skywalker pressed. "Did you take her directly to Naboo?"

"Anakin, calm down—"

"Is the Empire involved in this?"

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment. "I don't know."

Skywalker took a step toward him. "What do you mean _you don't know?"_ he asked harshly. "What did you do with her after you left Mustafar?"

Obi-Wan’s eyes skipped from Ahsoka and Rex to the ground as he backed away from him. With every small step back, Skywalker followed, his breathing becoming erratic and his hands clenching at his sides. Obi-Wan stayed silent, anxiety... _guilt,_ seeping into the Force around him—whirling, potent, and uncontrolled. 

"Obi-Wan," Skywalker said, “why won’t you tell me?”

Obi-Wan finally met his burning gaze, slowly, hesitantly, before he spoke, "I took her to Polis Massa."

Skywalker's advancing footsteps ceased. "Why?"

Obi-Wan held his silence for a few more excruciating moments. His eyes flickered back to the two on the ship, exhaling sharply through his nose. "There is a medical installation there."

"A medical installation?" Skywalker asked. He waited for Obi-Wan to speak again, but the only response he received was a nod. "I don't understand.”

There was no reason to take her to Polis Massa unless she was still alive.

"She died on Mustafar—" he paused, his jaw trembling—“didn't she?"

Obi-Wan watched him warily. "That's not entirely accurate."

Skywalker's blood ran cold, his pounding heart sinking to his stomach. "You don't—" His throat felt almost too tight to breathe. He swallowed roughly to push the sob coiling in his chest down. "Are you saying I didn't—"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. For once, it seemed he didn't have anything to say. Skywalker dimly acknowledged the stream of tears that trailed from his face to the hem of his shirt—but he didn't care enough to do anything to stop it. Beneath his betrayal, beneath the anguish, he felt hope. Hope and devastation. 

"Where is she?" 

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan admitted. Skywalker slowly narrowed his eyes, everything inside him dimming.

"I don't understand," he said again. "I thought you said—"

"I haven't spoken to her in years, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him. "I lost contact with her shortly after—" he cut himself off abruptly. Skywalker watched him, waiting for him to continue, but it never happened.

"After what, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's mouth stayed shut, and the bridge they had so carefully tried to rebuild started to burn. Skywalker's gaze flickered between his eyes. "You," he started, his heart heavy, “you knew this the whole time we've been here and you never said anything to me?"

"Anakin—"

He took a few steps back, the familiar sting of betrayal shooting up his spine. "How long did you plan to keep this from me?"

"For as long as I could," Obi-Wan admitted, "but what was I to do, Anakin? Truly, after all that has happened?"

Skywalker looked at him grievously. "I should have known."

Despite the years passed, he was still falling for the lies of his Master.

The deceit, the dishonesty—no matter how hard he tried to outrun them, they always found a way in. They followed from the Light Side to the Dark, from Tatooine to Coruscant, again and again, always from those closest.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Obi-Wan asked. "Anakin, you must understand that it was for her own good."

He fell for the Council’s lies. He fell for Obi-Wan’s. He fell for the Emperor’s. Too trusting, too _reckless_ to question, cursed with the plague of faith. He was a fool to think that Obi-Wan could ever change. 

He stepped forward. “I had the right to know." 

Obi-Wan looked him in the eyes. "A right you lost the moment that you tried to kill her.”

The wind felt like it got knocked out of Skywalker’s lungs. 

Everything was a blur as his trembling hands moved to the cold metal hilt of Ahsoka's lightsaber. "Anakin," came her voice from behind him. But Skywalker didn't heed her warning. His thumb pressed against the switch, and the tarnished blue lightsaber ignited.

Skywalker barely gave Obi-Wan any time to draw his own lightsaber before he pulled his back to swing. Their lightsabers clashed together. Obi-Wan deflected each firm stroke of his blade, dust kicking up beneath his shoes as they skidded across the sand. 

Skywalker's throat constricted, his lips twisting into a violent scowl as he took a step back. "Is she alive?" 

"I don't know."

Skywalker snarled and swung again. They parried, spun, swiped—never touching skin but reaching close enough to put each other on edge. Obi-Wan slashed upward and twisted, forcing the tips of their blades deep into the sand, leaving burn marks in their place.

"Anakin," he tried through gritted teeth. Ahsoka and Rex winced from the sidelines when Skywalker drew back to headbutt him, causing Obi-Wan to stumble backward and release the lightsabers. 

Skywalker had no intention to kill—but the subtle pull back to the darkness sat on his chest, like an ache desperately seeking relief. He could feel himself lose control, slowly, gradually, with every jab he threw toward his old Master. He knew the Dark Side patiently awaited his return.

Their blades met in the middle. Obi-Wan winced at the sparks coming off of their lightsabers, grinding his feet into the sand to stay put.

“I only wanted to keep them safe, Anakin,” he said. _"Surely_ you can—"

“Them?" Skywalker repeated. He force-pushed Obi-Wan back, grip tightening as he lifted his lightsaber again. “What do you mean _them?"_

Obi-Wan hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it several times before deciding to stay silent. Skywalker gritted his teeth and swung again with blurred vision, following the bright movements of his blade to keep track of where to strike.

"Who else were you hiding?" 

Obi-Wan grimaced, pushing against the opposing lightsaber to keep his upright. "The children," he admitted finally, his voice strained. "I was trying to keep the children safe."

At the simple statement, it seemed as though the entire planet froze on its axis. The ferocity coursing through Skywalker's veins abruptly dissolved into shock, and he wavered, stumbling back a few steps. 

"What children?" he managed.

Obi-Wan's silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. Rex and Ahsoka watched silently as a small breeze blew past them.

"She was carrying twins.” 

Obi-Wan’s words, softly spoken, came both too soon and too late. A stifled gasp left Skywalker’s throat when his body finally forced himself to breathe again, the lightsaber in his hand deactivating and slipping into the dust. 

Obi-Wan's brows knit together in sympathy. His blade disappeared into the hilt and he hooked it onto his belt again. "Anakin—"

Before he could step any further, Skywalker force-pulled Ahsoka's lightsaber up again and ignited it, swinging it up to Obi-Wan's throat in one fluid motion. 

"Where are they?"

He could see Obi-Wan swallow. "I can't tell you that, Anakin."

Skywalker stared at him, the anger, the torment, the pain all rushing back in an instant. He leaned in closer, his eyes bloodshot and dull, almost dead-looking, his lips curled into a snarl.

There were no words to say. Nothing that could mend what had just been destroyed. He dropped the lightsaber again, not bothering to watch it hit the ground as he turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight
> 
> i know i said i would update like three weeks ago but i had: so much writers block so i just now finished this *smirks*
> 
> wowowow padme didn't die? that is SO crazy i would have never expected that in a fix-it fic
> 
> don't worry lads i will clear everything up in the next few chapters. it will all make sense soon!! thank u all for ur patience. 
> 
> anyways THANKS FOR READING i hope u liked 😼


	11. Chapter 11

The gentle lure of death felt all too tempting. Obi-Wan Kenobi sat beside her. In his arms, he held a baby boy—in front of them, a medical droid held a baby girl.

_Luke, Leia,_ she had called them. Darkness shrouded the corners of her eyes; her breath stuttered, and her head fell back against the table. 

She had known that Anakin was still alive from the moment Obi-Wan entered the ship—somewhere, hidden deep within the monster that overtook him. The sadness would be numbing if it wasn't so raw. She felt herself slipping away as she looked to Obi-Wan, her old friend, the man that filled the place beside her that was supposed to belong to Anakin.

Padmé Amidala was not afraid of death—she was afraid of what happened next. Not for her, but for those around her. She was afraid of leaving her children behind, alone in a galaxy that has just gone up in flames.

A trembling hand outstretched from the table.

Obi-Wan noticed her efforts and graciously leaned forward, allowing her to lower the blanket that covered Luke's face. Through her tears, she saw the baby squirm in his arms. 

He was crying, kicking his feet out—but even then, he was beautiful. An overwhelming weight of responsibility fell over her.

“I don’t want to die,” she choked out. 

Obi-Wan looked over to her. “You’re not going to die, Padmé,” he assured.

Her weak grip on Luke’s blanket tightened. She fought against herself; against the pain and the agony that gripped her heart with cold, rotting hands.

Though death seemed comforting, though all of the stability in her life had been ripped away, she would not allow herself to leave her children behind. Not after Anakin had already done the same.

Exhaustion leaked into her body like molasses. Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut, and she fell into a deep slumber.

**_Deep space_ **

**19 BBY**

“I cannot just abandon my responsibilities. I have an obligation to the people.”

Padmé Amidala sat at the white conference table on the _Tantive IV,_ surrounded by Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Master Yoda. 

Though the passing days had gone by in a blur, she was present enough to realize they were not the only ones affected by the fall of the Republic. Her heart felt heavy with grief—but the time to mourn would come later. 

Yoda shook his head gravely. “In the open, too dangerous it is," he insisted. "Into hiding, you must go, for your protection.”

"And what will I say to the citizens of Naboo?” she asked. “With a new power rising, they will need someone to defend them.”

"I’m afraid you have much more important matters to concern yourself with.” Bail’s gaze flickered down to the baby girl in his arms. Her eyes followed. "What will you do with the children?"

"Split up, they must be,” said Yoda.

Padmé looked appalled at the suggestion. "I refuse to accept that as the only option,” she said. “There must be a way to keep us together safely."

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "Is there anywhere you could take refuge? Somewhere that the Sith won't find you?" 

Padmé thought for a moment; her eyes fell to the baby boy that slept soundly in her arms. She adjusted the blanket around his face and looked up. 

"I suppose there is one place."

Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Where?"

"On Naboo," she said, "there's a small estate in Keren. It’s been in my family for generations."

"Able to locate you, would Skywalker be?"

Padmé felt a pang of grief at the mention of his name. "I don't believe so."

"Then where you will go, that is," Yoda said.

"How will we explain her supposed passing?" Bail asked. "Padmé is a widely respected public figure. The people of Naboo will expect a funeral, at the very least."

A moment of thick silence passed. Yoda hummed. "A decoy, we shall put in her place."

"A decoy?" asked Obi-Wan.

Bail faced forward. “Their lives must remain a secret.”

“What are we to do if he finds us?” Padmé asked. 

Silence plagued the room. Yoda leaned forward in his chair, balancing some of his weight on his cane.

“Protecting the children, our priority must be,” he replied. “Go with Obi-Wan and Bail, they will, in the case of an emergency.”

Padmé agreed.

“With hopes that such a thing will never occur,” Bail started, “my wife and I can take care of the girl. She would be safe with us.”

Obi-Wan looked over to baby Luke, troubled. 

“Where shall I take the boy?”

“Tatooine," Yoda replied. "To his family, send him.”

His eyes lifted to Padmé for her approval; she gave a solemn nod. “All right,” she said, “but I ask that you stay close by. I don’t trust them enough on their own.” 

“Very well,” said Obi-Wan after a moment. "I will honor your wishes the best I can."

Padmé looked down at Luke.

Though the Republic had collapsed, the Jedi had fallen, the survivors were limited—she knew that dwelling on the past would get them nowhere. She could only push forward and hope that one day, the man she loved would come back to her.

**_Naboo_ **

**18 BBY**

**One standard cycle since the fall of the Republic.**

A lone cottage stood on the outskirts of Karen, small amidst the fields of flowers that surrounded it. Padmé lingered in the kitchen beside a young Luke and Leia, peering out the window impatiently.

“All right,” she muttered and crouched beside the children. “Since Obi-Wan is running behind, we'll just have to go to the market ourselves. How does that sound?"

The two didn't give a response. She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face and picked them up, one in each arm, bringing them over to the living area. 

Much of the cottage reminded her of her childhood home. It was quaint and peaceful; not too large, not too small. A narrow hallway occupied the space beside the sofa and ran down to the bedrooms, a small closet, and a refresher. 

Padmé gently lowered the two in front of the couch, making sure they were steady before crossing the room and rummaging through the wooden chest in the corner. She fished through the sea of dolls and little spaceships to try to find the makeshift baby carrier lost inside.

The piece was fashioned from the scraps of one of her old dresses, cut up and sewn back together to make it easily transportable.

Once she spotted it, she drew it into the light and walked back to the children. 

The local market wasn’t far. But unfortunately, Obi-Wan had taken their shared vehicle earlier that morning, so it seemed they would be traveling on foot. Padmé slipped on the baby sling and strapped the children into place—Leia in front, and Luke on her back. Once they were secured, she wrote a short note for Obi-Wan and left it on the counter.

_Out of food for the kids. Will be back soon._

The chilled morning breeze brushed past them as she locked the door. Naboo was truly a beautiful planet. Padmé regarded it as the best, though she was admittedly a little bit biased. There was no other place she wished to be.

She only wished it was under different circumstances.

The fields were in full bloom at this time of year. The kids enjoyed sitting outside when the weather allowed; Leia walked her first steps in the gardens a week prior.

Once they arrived at the market, Padmé adjusted the covering over her face. The stores hung under towering green trees, colorful and vibrant, each booth holding merchandise inside.

This market would always be her favorite. Despite everything happening in the galaxy around them, the people maintained their kindness toward each other. It was places like this that made her feel a sense of pride over her planet; the way that, even in uncertainty, their people were able to spring back and find ways to thrive. 

The market was much busier than usual; people crowded around the area, each sentient in search of items to satisfy their own needs. Padmé walked to a booth with an orange drop cloth.

“May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked. 

“Please.” Padmé smiled, though the merchant could only see her eyes. “How much are your fruit baskets?”

“For now, four credits.” The woman laughed lightly. “They were just harvested this morning, but I’ll tell you, we’re selling out quickly. It seems the whole town heard of the new batch.”

“It’s always nice to see support within our community.” Padmé looked up from where she browsed the other available items. “How much for a fresh loaf of bread?”

“Three credits,” the merchant replied.

Padmé pursed her lips. “All right. I will take one fruit basket and one loaf of bread, please.” 

“You’ve got it,” the merchant said. She grabbed the items off of the shelf and put them together. “You know, we don’t normally have enough baskets to hand out—but since you already have your hands full, I’ll grab one that I can send you with.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Padmé said gratefully. Her shoulders were already aching from the weight hanging on them. She gently pushed a sleeping Leia to the side to grab her small purse. 

As Padmé shuffled through the credits, she suddenly lost her grip and the bag fell to the ground. She reached for it, the movement causing her head covering to come undone.

“Here, let me help.” 

A man leaned over and grabbed the bag, extending it toward her. She accepted. “Thank you.” 

“No worries.” He gestured to Luke and Leia. “My partner and I are expecting our first.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Padmé said with a bright smile. She tugged the pull string open and sifted through her credits. “Congratulations.” 

The man nodded. Then, paused, his eyes narrowed. “You look awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Her hands stilled. 

After a moment, she placed the credits on the counter in front of her and put the bag away. She looked away as she tried to fix her covering. 

“No, I don’t believe so.”

But it didn’t seem to curb his interest. He quirked his head to the side, suspicious. “You’re in politics, right?”

An unwelcome spike of adrenaline hot through her veins at his words. “I truly do not know what you're talking about, sir,” she said.

He looked confused. “I’m pretty sure I’ve voted for you.”

“Don’t you know better than to look at a lady without her covering?” the merchant admonished when she returned. “Leave the young woman alone.”

Padmé took in a shuddering breath. She pushed the credits toward the woman and grabbed the basket, stepping out of the booth. 

She was nearly out of range when she heard the telltale click of a commlink and the man’s voice one last time:

_“...yes, Padmé Amidala. She was just here.”_

»»««

"Sir, we've just received an urgent report from Naboo.”

Grand Moff Tarkin crossed the bridge, standing above the men inside the pit. “Go on."

“Well,” the operator hesitated, “a dead senator has supposedly come back to life.”

“A dead senator?” asked Tarkin. The man operating the control board winced.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Padmé Amidala. Local authorities are now searching for any sign of her that they can find.”

The air in the room seemed to shift. 

Tarkin pursed his lips. “Good,” he said before regarding the workers. “No one speaks of this to anyone until given further instruction. I will handle it from here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Grand Moff set his jaw and strode back toward the turbolift, taking a step inside. A button clicked; as the lift smoothly began to descend, he drew out his holoprojector.

The room suddenly tinted with blue. Two scaled-down figures appeared in the palm of his hand, and he dipped his head in greeting.

“My lords,” said Tarkin. “I bring news.”

»»««

A pair of footsteps echoed off the walls of the Emperor's flagship, clicking rapidly against the glassy floor. The material of their robes flowed behind them; one of jet black and another of dark crimson. Their words cut through the sheer layer of silence that lingered on the ship.

“I’m sure Father will not be pleased to hear of this,” the man with the crimson robe stated.

“There is no news he is ever truly pleased to hear,” the other returned. “If Lord Vader is as strong as he believes, Father should take no issue with the matter.”

A company of patrolling Stormtroopers parted to make way for them. The taller of the two, clad in crimson, gave a nod of acknowledgment to the unit before continuing forward. Before long, he noticed his companion’s brows furrow.

“Is something on your mind, Javon?” 

The black-robed man grimaced as he was addressed. “If Father had chosen me as his apprentice, such complications would never exist.”

The one in crimson sighed at his words. “It is nothing against you personally,” he said. "You must have patience and trust that he has more for us."

"I've been patient, and where has that gotten me?" Javon remarked as the two walked. "We remain in the shadows while Father allows _outsiders_ to steal what is rightfully ours. First the Dathomirian, then Tyranus, and now another Jedi."

"Our time will come.” The crimson-robed man narrowed his eyes at the look his brother gave him. “One day.” 

Javon shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Father's pupils have never been able to accomplish what we could so easily. What makes him believe that this one will be any different?”

"Lord Vader has done a commendable job so far," the crimson-robes man offered, albeit unhelpfully.

"Lord Vader is only doing well in comparison to Father's other failures," the other shot back. "The standard would have been held higher if he had chosen me instead."

The one in crimson watched his companion for a moment before looking forward again. “Careful,” he cautioned. “Do not allow your path to be led by arrogance, brother.”

“I am only stating what must be acknowledged,” Javon said. “Both of us are versed well enough to take the place of a true apprentice. Why hasn’t he given us the chance? We are his flesh and blood, Aronan.”

The one in crimson, Aronan, sighed again. The throne room was in sight. He gestured for his brother to halt.

“I know that you're anxious for opportunity,” he said, “but for now, we must hope that Father is preparing us for something greater."

A short beat passed. “Perhaps you’re right.”

The blast doors slid open, and the two of them straightened before entering the throne room. As their footsteps echoed off the walls, their eyes landed on their father, sitting on the throne, his entire figure shrouded in darkness.

“My sons.”

Aronan tipped his head in lieu of a greeting. Javon stepped forward. “Father,” he announced. “We come bearing news.” 

The Emperor’s dry lips parted. “So you have.”

Javon took his words as an invitation to continue.

“We have received word of a Nabooian senator that has come back to life.“ He met his eyes. “Padmé Amidala.”

His words hung in the air. The Emperor’s face twisted into a scowl, displaying his rows of cracked teeth. 

“Amidala?” 

His voice was low, grated. A bitter sense of recognition manifested itself in the Force around him.

Aronan nodded. “Yes, Father.”

They stayed silent as the Emperor stood from the throne, slowly making his way down the steps in front of him.

“This is… unexpected,” he said, strained. "When did this report find its way here?" 

"Earlier today," Aronan responded. “There is an active search for her as we speak. Local authorities are searching the nearby towns.”

Another beat passed. Javon hesitantly cleared his throat. “Father, we humbly ask that you would allow us to investigate this matter ourselves."

The Emperor seemed contemplative. 

“I will decide which course of action is necessary,” he said. “You are to garrison a squad to Naboo and nothing else. I will ask Lord Vader to accompany them.”

Aronan looked up in surprise. He glanced over to Javon before turning his attention back to the Emperor. 

“But Lord Vader mustn’t know of her existence,” he said. “It would put far too much at stake.“

The Emperor turned to walk back to his throne, uninterested. “I am certain he is capable of completing the tasks asked of him.”

“If I may, Father, that is not the issue,” Aronan tried. “If you have already told of her fate and he realizes that it was incorrect, will his trust in your Empire not be shaken?”

The Emperor’s steps halted. The man continued, “To maintain the peace we have, we cannot allow this news to find Lord Vader.”

The whole room went silent. Crimson clad guards stationed across the room stood motionless, and his brother watched, his eyes flickering between the two of them. 

“Very well,” the Emperor said finally. “The both of you will accompany the squad in place of Lord Vader. I want her alive.”

“Alive?” asked Javon. “What benefit would it bring us to bring her here?”

“Not here. Lord Vader would sense her presence.” The Emperor sat on his throne. “You will hide her until she is of use to us. With her, perhaps we will be able to keep Lord Vader on our side permanently."

They nodded.

“If Amidala is alive, their child must be as well,” the Emperor continued, looking between them. “You are to kill it.”

Aronan’s eyes snapped up as Javon tipped his head forward. 

“We will not disappoint you, Father,” his brother said. “We thank you for putting your trust in us.”

A beat passed. The Emperor watched them with an unreadable expression.

“You are dismissed.”

They turned and walked away. Aronan found it difficult to conceal his disgust until they were outside of the door. 

_Kill a child?_

The thought echoed throughout his mind.

If Amidala was still expectant when she went into hiding, it would only be a year old. The child would likely not even be old enough to walk yet.

Yes, perhaps it was the child of an enemy—but, regardless of affiliation, a child was still a child.

“Well brother,” Javon said, “it seems as though our efforts have finally paid off.”

Aronan didn’t look at him. “So they have.”

»»««

“Obi-Wan, do you copy?"

Her hands shook beneath the commlink in her hands. The device chirped after an excruciating moment of silence.

_"I copy. What is the matter? I told you I would be back soon."_

"Someone saw me," Padmé explained. “In the marketplace. It all happened so quickly—“

_"It’s all right,”_ Obi-Wan cut in. _“Take yourself and the children into the safe room. I will get there as soon as I can.”_

Padmé clicked the commlink off and set it down, mumbling something under her breath as she walked to the middle of the hall.

Hidden beneath the floorboards was a small keypad; she tapped in the code, causing a plank inside the closet behind her to creak upward. She lifted it the rest of the way and braced it with a wooden staff before grabbing Luke and Leia.

Padmé flicked on the light as she walked down the steps of the safe room, carrying the young children in and gently laying them into their cribs. When Luke stirred, his face scrunching at the dim, flickering light over him, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. 

"It’ll be all right," she assured quietly, "it's all right."

Leia stood unsteadily, leaning on the bars of her crib. Padmé looked at her sadly. Once Luke had fallen back asleep, she walked to Leia, brushing her hand against the side of her face.

Padmé hid the keypad again and started to close the trapdoor when her commlink beeped from the counter. She blew out a breath and stepped back into the hall, lowering the door before walking into the kitchen.

_“Padmé. Is everything all right?”_

She held a button. “The kids are in the safe room. I’m headed down now.”

_“Stay there until I arrive,”_ Obi-Wan said. _“Don’t come upstairs until the area is clear.”_

Padmé began to reply but cut herself off, startled by the noises she heard outside of the window. 

_“Padmé?”_

Footsteps. Tens of them.

_“Padmé, what’s happening?”_

She looked between the hall and the window. There was no time for her to get to safety without them seeing. Her commlink blinked in her hand once more; Obi-Wan. She took in a breath and dropped the device to the ground, crushing it beneath the sole of her shoe.

Then, four raps at her door.

Her throat constricted. She considered pulling on her covering, but it was no use. Everyone knew why they were here.

More sharp knocks. She cast a glance down the hall one last time.

The door opened on her accord. Instantly, the house was flooded with Stormtroopers; they charged in and surrounded her, blasters drawn.

“Hands up,” one of them said. 

Padmé looked between them, holding her composure. “What is the charge?”

“I said,” they repeated, blaster riling, _“hands up.”_

She set her jaw and complied. Still, she struggled against the restraints once they latched onto her wrists. “I cannot be treated this way without reason,” she insisted. 

“We’ll treat you how we see fit,” the Stormtrooper sneered.

"Take the cuffs off her."

They all froze at the sudden voice. 

Padmé slowly turned to look at the two men looming over her shoulder as the Stormtrooper beside her faltered.

"But sir, our orders—"

“We are guests in her home," the same man interrupted, looking around the room once before his eyes landed on the trooper expectantly. "Now, the bands. I will not ask twice."

The trooper uncuffed her. 

She gingerly rubbed her wrists, watching the men with narrowed eyes. "I'm the only one here," she insisted. “There’s no point in searching.”

"Sir," one of the Stormtroopers said, turning all of their attention to the chest full of children’s toys in the living room. The man in front of her turned to the taller man standing beside him. 

"Search the area,” he said.

She bit her tongue to stay silent as he walked down the hall. The man gestured to the sofa once the other had left.

"Sit, my dear."

"I would prefer to stand while your men invade my home."

He wore an amused smile. "Well, if you have nothing to hide, there will be no problem, Senator." He took a seat on the couch. "I will admit to a bit of shock when that report came through our systems. I remember you from your serving days."

"I'm afraid the feeling isn't mutual,” she replied dryly.

He sighed. "No, you wouldn’t know me. But you would know my father rather well. He was the cause of—" He made a vague hand gesture— "all of this."

Slowly, the pieces clicked. "Your father is the Chancellor.”

"The Emperor, now.”

She hummed, eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware that he had a son.”

“Two of us, actually.” His voice had a Coruscanti lilt to it. “Father always kept his work and personal life separate. _Life is a delicate balance_ —he used to say— _if one side of the scale is tipped too far, it begins to crumble.”_

Padmé let out a soft breath when some of the troops walked past the hidden keypad. After a moment, she turned back to the man sitting on her sofa.

“What are you doing here?" she asked. "I've lived peacefully since the fall of the Republic. I have done nothing to warrant a search."

His expression fell.

"Skywalker," he said, "is the reason we're here."

Padmé’s breath caught in her throat.

He rose to meet her where she stood. "You see, my father wants insurance,” he said, “and you happen to be exactly what we need.”

Her gaze flickered between his eyes.

“The house is clear,” a voice suddenly said from behind them. They turned to see the man from earlier. “There is no sign of the child anywhere.”

“Where is it?” the man in front of her asked, his blue eyes piercing into hers. “The child. Where is the child?”

Her chin tipped slightly. “I’ll die before I tell you.”

The taller man stepped forward. “We have what we were sent for, brother,” he said. “We must leave.”

The first man scowled. He looked to a trooper, and Padmé heard the faint click of a blaster mere seconds before a ring of electricity was shot toward her. 

The stun blast overloaded her nervous system instantly; she struggled, knees buckling beneath her and sending her to the ground.

Everything went black. 

»»««

By the time Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived at the cottage, everything had been torn apart.

He gripped onto the hilt of his lightsaber and crept inside. The front door was splintered and broken, the cabinets were flung open, the floor was covered with discarded items and thrown decor. He searched through every room—but there was no sign of any life in the house.

He let out a breath and walked toward the keypad, entering the code. The trapdoor hissed open, creaking as it reeled back, and he cautiously descended the flight of stairs.

The light flickered; it was only bright enough to see two infants sleeping in their cribs and emptiness where Padmé should be found. Obi-Wan drew out his commlink.

“Senator Organa, do you copy?”

Crackling static filled the room before Bail’s voice. _“I copy.”_

Pained, Obi-Wan looked over to the children, still sleeping soundly in their cradles. "I'm afraid something has happened. Please meet me at the rendezvous point.”

A short beat of silence followed his words. "Of course," Bail replied slowly. "I will ask Alian to clear my schedule."

With that, the line went dead. 

**_Kalo Minor_ **

**Present Day**

**Fifteen standard cycles since the fall of the Republic.**

“You are not permitted to go into the left wing of the palace for the next four rotations,” Javon said as they walked the long corridor. “You will stay in your room. If you wish to leave, you will ask Aronan to escort you.”

“Yes, my love,” Padmé replied, dull eyes forward.

They halted in front of her room. He turned to her. “Promise me you will follow my instruction.”

“I promise.”

Javon’s smile reached his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, I have matters to attend to. I will see you again before nightfall.”

Padmé nodded. He dismissed her and she walked into her room, gently closing the door behind her.

She dragged her feet to the small window, where dim rays of sunshine seeped into the space. 

Her room was compact, yes, but she was grateful that she had a bed. The other maidens in the palace were forced to sleep on the ground.

She was given a view of one of the many gardens surrounding the palace. This garden held some of the same types of flowers that her cottage once did. 

Memories of Leia taking her first steps in the field resurfaced, and she drew the curtains.

Padmé sat on the bed and undid her braided hair, staring blankly at the bleak, grey walls.

Her eyes didn’t burn anymore; the wells of her tears had long since gone dry. She sat in the darkness of her room alone, too exhausted to stand and too anxious to sleep.

Minutes stretched into hours.

Her thoughts were too loud for her liking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allow me to explain myself
> 
> okay, so i’m not entirely sure where this is going to land but i spent a lot of time on it so i’m just going to sit back and hope that it’s well received
> 
> i know i’ve committed the unforgivable act of Bring a Character Back to Life and writing in OCs but i’ve spent a while planning all of this out and i promise to do my best to be sure that these characters feel authentic and grounded. i had way more backstory written for these two but i decided to cut it for now and save it for later chapters >:) 
> 
> and hear me out!! rey’s father already existed in the canon. this is just a backstory on him and a little more. anakin is still going to be the focal point, but what’s a good story without some spice 
> 
> i really try to put my heart into this story. i love star wars and i’m trying my best to do it justice!! another chapter should be up by tuesday :)
> 
> please let me know what you think!! happy halloween 💃🏻


	12. Chapter 12

Obi-Wan looked up when two familiar figures walked into the hut. 

“Well?” he prompted.

"There's no sign of him," said Ahsoka, dispirited.

Rex kicked out a chair and sat down as Ahsoka unloaded the backpack onto the table. She offered a glance.

"You’re sure he hasn't come back here?" 

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not that I know of,” he said. “And you haven’t found anything at all?”

“Nothing good.” Rex wiped his forehead. “The speeder out front is missing.”

Ahsoka sighed, rummaging through the items scattered across the table. “He could be anywhere by now.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “Well, I’m sure he’ll come back to his senses soon enough.”

Though his words were meant for comfort, it seemed they were not taken that way. Everything stilled for a moment; Ahsoka looked over at him, something akin to disbelief written into her expression.

“You just don't get it, do you?"

Obi-Wan watched her. “I'm not sure what you mean,” he said. “Ahsoka, surely you can understand how difficult it was to keep this from him.”

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t change any of the damage done.” Her fiery blue eyes bared into his. “Anakin is out— _Force only knows where—_ all because you've decided, yet again, to keep something important from him.”

His lips turned downward. “I never meant to do any harm."

"Whatever your intentions were, he’s still gone," she said. "You of all people should know what he's been through. This all could have been avoided if you just told him the truth."

He folded his arms, defensive. “Anakin has two children that I was asked to protect. It seemed the best way to do that was to keep them a secret." 

“You can’t keep things like that from us.” Ahsoka turned back to the table, shifting through the items.

“And what would you have done differently?” Obi-Wan asked. “Believe it or not, Ahsoka, things are not as they once were. There was no other way to guarantee their safety.”

Ahsoka looked up and watched him, a burning glint in her eyes. The grip Obi-Wan had on his mug tightened.

"That’s enough," Rex interrupted. “This isn’t helping anything, all right? We have to focus on finding Skywalker.”

Ahsoka’s harsh gaze lingered for another beat. Then she sighed, her hands lowering to the table again to fill the backpack.

"We still have a lot of ground to cover,” Rex continued, “and that’s assuming he’s still planetside. For all we know, he could be halfway out of the system by now.”

Ahsoka turned her attention to Obi-Wan. "If you're willing to offer it, your help would be very useful.”

“What could I possibly do to help?” he asked.

“Rex and I have done what we can, but we're not very familiar with this planet,” she replied. “We could go much further if we had someone who knows the land with us.” 

Obi-Wan slowly stood from his chair, weighing it over in his mind. Tatooine was rather vast. If he refused, they’d likely get lost in the dunes—or worse, get caught in Hutt territory. His gaze flickered between the two of them before settling on Ahsoka once more.

“You know that I never meant for this to happen,” he said, voice a little softer than it was a moment earlier. The hostility had dimmed, replaced only by a hint of shame.

“Then help us look for him.” She extended a hand and placed it over his. “Put in the work and make things right.”

Obi-Wan watched her for a beat. Then, he cleared his throat and turned. 

“Well then,” he said finally, “I’ll get my cloak."

»»««

Skywalker woke abruptly, a silent gasp for breath leaving his throat as his restless eyes scanned over his surroundings.

Dust, sand, and two suns. Just as it looked earlier. Just as it _always looked._

He huffed and pulled his cloak up again. A thin layer of sweat coated his skin as he twisted and turned in the speeder to get comfortable, unwelcome memories from the previous day flooding into his mind.

Padmé could still be alive. There were two children running around somewhere without a father. And Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan lived peaceably with knowledge that Skywalker wasn’t allowed to have.

He gritted his teeth and shifted again.

Though he had tried to make amends, though Ahsoka tried to believe that he could change—he knew that the past was already written, and his deeds were already set in stone. No matter what he did, whether good or evil, it would never change the choices that he made.

Enticed by the power, enticed by the guise of justice, he chose the darkness over all of them. He plundered and he killed for a cause that tore families apart. He tortured innocents, forced compliance, brought entire planets to their knees at the strike of his blade.

Darth Vader was a name once feared above all others; although Skywalker now knew that a reign built on fear was worth nothing at all, the darkness had a way of convincing otherwise. 

_The loss of one person did not matter,_ it whispered, but how easily one life turned into one-thousand. Each life taken added a new array of numbness; a new ease. 

As surely as a swimmer only believes he’s in control until a riptide drags him to the seafloor, the Dark Side only seemed yielding to those unaware of the current at their feet. It was malleable, yes, but until you were in its grasp. 

Despite it all, Skywalker still knew that he was the one at fault. 

He was the one that succumbed to the darkness; he was the one that sacrificed his morality for a corrupted form of peace. 

Though the anger he felt toward Obi-Wan was genuine, some time had passed, and Skywalker realized that he couldn’t condemn him for his actions.

Skywalker had killed more than he could count. He had set fire to villages, laid siege to innocent groups of people—all in a quest to gain more power. One planet was too little; a single star system was not enough.

He deserved any punishment that he received.

And the darkness still called to him. Sometimes it felt as though he was walking through quicksand; eternally stuck in one spot, sinking, crawling, grasping for a way out, and _it should be easy to go back,_ he mused, but he couldn’t.

During his time away from the Empire, something had stirred. 

The thought of killing no longer brought numbness—instead, it brought an unfamiliar abhorrence. A sense of conflict within him. It stuck with him even in the smaller decisions, convinced him to act in favor of others instead of himself.

Empathy was not completely foreign to him, but he hadn’t felt it to this magnitude in a very, very long time.

Though the darkness called to him, he refused to acknowledge it. There was no outrunning the monstrosities he committed—he could only accept the consequences and move forward, paying his dues, and doing what he can to right the wrongs.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to.

"Market guy?"

Skywalker jolted at the sudden voice. 

He yanked his hood off and sat up, meeting the gaze of… that one kid from the market. The boy suddenly flinched away, holding a hand up to shield his eyes.

Skywalker blinked in confusion. “Where did you come from?” 

“I was on my way to my friend Tank’s place,” said Luke, sounding equally confused. He finally gathered the strength to spare him a glance. “Oh man, dude, you look _terrible.”_

Skywalker glared. “Thanks.”

“No, seriously—you look really, really bad. What, did you get stomped on by a bantha or something? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone—“

“All right, I get it,” he cut in. “What do you want?”

The kid looked at him with concern. His gaze flickered to the speeder. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

His eyes narrowed but he shrugged, leaning back. "I had a rough night.”

“I’ll say.” Luke looked around again, a pensive expression on his face. Whatever active brain cells that dwelled within his mind seemed to be in use.

Then, a lightbulb went off.

“Hey. I think I know a place that might cheer you up.”

Skywalker shifted, tugging the hood over his face again. “No thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he heard Luke groan. “You’re not doing anything.”

“I’m not in the mood to go anywhere.”

“That’s what my uncle always says at first, but then he gets there and has a great time.”

Skywalker peeked his head out. “Why don’t you go bother him instead?”

The kid sighed long-suffering and leaned against the speeder door. “Because I don't know where he is, genius. Why else?”

Skywalker watched him for a moment before retreating into his cloak once more.

“Leave me alone."

“Listen, I _guarantee_ you’ll have a good time,” Luke insisted. “It’s like the best place on this whole planet. It’ll be so much better than sitting in this lousy speeder all day and getting sun poisoning."

“Go away,” he said from under his cloak, voice muffled. There was a pause. Skywalker nearly considered the possibility that the kid had left, but before he could, Luke had already started talking again.

“All right, then. I guess I’ll just leave you out here on your own,” he drew his words; they sounded like bait. “But don’t come crawling back to me when you need a remedy for those nasty burns.”

Skywalker stayed silent.

“Ah, who am I kidding? I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.” Luke pretended to walk away. “Here I go. Away from a lost cause. A charity case wearing all black.”

Skywalker foolishly decided to take the bait. He shifted to sit upright. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing just fine.”

At his words, Luke gasped.

Skywalker blinked, exasperated. “Is there something wrong?”

“Just as I feared.” Luke brought a hand to his forehead, and Skywalker swatted it away. "Defensiveness. It’s the first sign of sun poisoning." 

"I've never heard of that.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "Memory loss," he said. "That's that second. Violent outbursts are the next—" 

"Would you stop talking if I said yes?" 

A shrug. "Maybe."

Skywalker sat back on his heels with a huff, scrubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“Fine,” he said finally. “What did you have in mind?”

»»««

"Are you paying for this?"

"No?" Luke said, his mouth full of food. "I thought you were."

Skywalker bit the inside of his cheek. "I guess I am."

The two of them sat inside one of the only restaurants on Tatooine, the table full of different dishes and entrées that Luke had ordered—and suddenly, Skywalker was glad he had half the mind to keep some credits on him yesterday.

“So.” Luke leaned back, placing the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. “Tell me all of your troubles."

"Oh, no. That's not how this is going to work." Skywalker started to stand. "I'm not going to tell you my life story after you tricked me into buying your lunch.”

"But I'm a good listener," the kid insisted. "My friend Biggs says I'm like a professional."

Skywalker paused to watch him tiredly. "Aren't you like fourteen?"

"Try fifteen and a half,” Luke smirked. “My aunt promised me that I’d get my own speeder for my next birthday. There’s this really cool one at the shop next door—“

Skywalker sat back down again. Luke pursed his lips.

“Wait, what was I saying?” 

“That you wanted to be my therapist.”

"Oh, right. I don’t judge," Luke continued. “Also, I don't even know you. If you think about it, I'm the best person to confine in."

Skywalker rubbed his temples with a sigh. "It's _confide."_

Luke rolled his eyes as he shoveled some more food into his mouth, and Skywalker could only wonder how it was possible for a kid so small to eat so much. 

"So are you going to tell me or what?" 

Skywalker watched him warily for a moment.

 _It could be the perfect opportunity to sort things out,_ he allowed himself to think. Luke wouldn’t be able to interfere with any of it. He could just unload some of his baggage, the kid could offer a few comments, and then they’d both be on their way.

Decisively, he leaned back.

“All right.”

Luke’s eyes shot up mid-bite. “Wait, really?”

Skywalker cringed at his mouth full of food. “You’re the one that wanted to be a therapist.”

The kid swallowed. “Yeah, that’s—yeah!” He shifted in his chair to sit upright. “Okay, Bail. I’m all ears.”

Skywalker wondered if a good starting point even existed. Maybe somewhere in his training as a Jedi, or maybe when he became a dark lord of the Sith. Or—

“I just found out that I’m a father."

That seemed good enough. Luke nodded, intrigued. "Go on."

“My—” Skywalker paused. “My _brother_ and I have just started to make amends. I thought everything was going well after we got locked in a ship together, but everything started to spiral after I visited my wife’s grave and it was empty.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Wild. Continue.”

“One thing led to another and we had this big argument, and he told me that he was trying to protect her and I got angry.” Skywalker ran a hand over his face. “After a while of fighting, he told me that I have two kids."

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, very interesting,” he stated. “And you said this was a brother? Older or younger?"

"Does it matter?" asked Skywalker.

"Does it matter," Luke chuckled to himself. "It's the difference between needing family therapy and just running him over with a speeder bike."

Skywalker narrowed his eyes slightly. “Am I to assume this knowledge comes from your first-hand experience?"

“What, me? A sibling?” Luke shook his head. “Ah, no way—I’m a one-man show, Bail.”

Before Skywalker could respond to that, a waiter balancing a plate of dessert in his hands walked to their table.

"Here you go, son.”

"Oh wow,” the kid said when it was placed in front of him. "Thanks, Porro!"

The waiter nodded once and walked back into the kitchen. Skywalker watched as he left, turning back to Luke after the door slid shut.

"You know him?" 

Luke shoveled the eopie cream pie into his mouth. “Yeah, he’s in my uncle’s lightball league,” he said. “But this isn’t about them. This is about you and your issues, remember?

“All right.” Skywalker took a bite of one of the rolls in front of him as Luke leaned back.

“Have you ever tried to talk to your brother about this?” he asked. “Maybe try to find some common ground?”

Skywalker shrugged. “There’s no point. He’s more interested in being right than he is in fixing the problem.”

Luke hummed, taking another bite of his pie. 

“Then it sounds like you’ve done all you can.”

Skywalker looked up. “What?”

The kid shrugged. “If he doesn’t want to do his part, why should you have to do yours? You can’t do all the work.”

Skywalker thought it over for a moment. 

“I’m trying to be a better person,” he said. 

“Being a good person doesn’t mean you have to put up with stuff like that,” said Luke. “Listen, Bail, there are some people that just want to use you—in fact, I just found out that my ex from two years ago was only with me so that they could eat my aunt’s _scones.”_

“Scones,” Skywalker repeated, deadpan.

Luke nodded his head gravely. “Who does that? Her scones aren’t even that good. They’re all hard and crunchy.”

“Do you have a point with this?” asked Skywalker.

“My point is,” Luke said, “don’t let people walk all over you, Bail. Know your worth and try to put your foot down every once in a while.”

Skywalker leaned back, crossing his arms with a sigh. “Put my foot down, huh?”

Luke hummed, affirmative. “You know, have some confidence.”

Skywalker scoffed softly. “I’m confident.”

“You are _not_ confident.” Luke let out a small wheeze. “My aunt is more confident in her scones than you are in yourself—“

“I get it.” Skywalker shifted in his chair. “All right, so maybe I’m not. What does it matter?”

“What does it _matter?”_

“Yeah, what does it matter?”

“You know what, I was just like you once,” said Luke. “When I was thirteen, my aunt gave me a bowl cut, and I couldn’t even walk out of the house without crying. Do you know how I made it through?"

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“Confidence,” Luke said, simple and plain. “You just gotta own it, Bail—even if you look or feel stupid. Once you let people know that they can’t touch you, they’ll have no choice but to extend their respect.”

Skywalker shook his head. “I’ve already tried that.”

“Well, you probably just didn’t do it right.” Luke looked around the restaurant with narrowed eyes before leaning in close. “Do you want to know my secret?”

“Your secret?”

Luke nodded and fished out a small metal pendant from his pocket. “It’s my good luck charm,” he whispered, extending it toward him. “Here, take it.”

Skywalker gently took the pendant into his hands. He squinted to read the word engraved into it. 

“My friend Tank told me it meant _strongest of all,”_ Luke smiled. “He’s fluent in Jawaese.”

Skywalker stared at the metal piece. “It means freedom,” he said quietly. “My mother gave me one just like it when I was a boy.”

“My uncle gave it to me,” said Luke. “It’s the only thing I have left of my father.”

Skywalker pursed his lips. “Strange.”

There was an awkward silence before Luke smirked at him. “You know what, keep it.”

“What?”

“It’s my gift to you,” Luke insisted. “Not many people would sit in this restaurant with me for so long. I guess we’re kind of like buddies now.”

Skywalker offered him a smile. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess we are.”

They talked for a little while longer after that. Even if Skywalker couldn't tell him everything, it was... nice. Voicing his thoughts and having them validated, returned. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

After he begrudgingly footed the bill, they stepped outside. Luke rambled something of local legends while Skywalker walked beside him, nodding his head absently.

Honestly, he had no clue what the kid was talking about half of the time—but it was a welcomed distraction all the same. 

In some ways, Luke reminded him of Ahsoka when she was his Padawan. His eyes were bright and full of life, thirsting for adventure, buzzing with hope. It both exhausted him and reminded him of better times. 

For once, Skywalker felt normal.

Then, abruptly, his feet froze in their tracks.

Anxiety ran up his spine at the sight ahead of them: a group of familiar figures, clad in white armor, blasters drawn, all gathered in the middle of the town square. 

Stormtroopers.

Luke whirled around when he realized Skywalker was no longer with him. He followed his gaze to the soldiers and sighed. "Oh, yeah. I hate those guys."

Skywalker quickened his steps. Luke looked at him weirdly.

"They just need our IDs. No big deal."

When they finally arrived at Obi-Wan's speeder, Skywalker swung his leg over the side and got into the front seat, patting around his cloak to find the ignition keys. Nothing. He swore under his breath and looked over to the restaurant—but the entrance was filled with Stormtroopers.

"Um," said Luke, "are you all right, Bail?" 

"That speeder next door," Skywalker said distractedly. "Why don't we take it for a spin?"

Luke blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun." Skywalker hopped out and began walking toward the shop. Luke followed. 

"Can I drive?" he asked excitedly.

His eyes darted around the area once they caught sight of the red speeder. "Sure, kid," he said. "Knock yourself out."

"Yes!" Luke exclaimed. They rounded the vehicle and jumped into the seats. "My uncle never lets me—"

"Quiet," Skywalker said as the Stormtroopers scanned the next ID. They were far too close for his liking. He ducked his head down and scrambled through the wires in the panel below them. Some sellers rigged their vehicles to keep smugglers away, but luckily, this one seemed clean.

Luke's fingers wiggled in the air for a little bit before landing on the wheel. "Okay," he said, "how do I start this bad boy up."

Skywalker's eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me you don't—"

He winced when his head thumped against the bottom of the dash. With a huff, he sat up, peering through the windshield to watch the actively advancing troops.

"You know what, never mind,” he said. “Turn the ignition key."

"Oh. Like this?" Luke twisted the key and held it, causing the engine to sputter loudly. Skywalker panicked.

"No, no, no." He gently guided Luke's hand away. "Here, just let me do it."

"I got it—" 

"You there," called a sudden voice, controlled and sharp, and Skywalker's blood ran cold. He sucked in a hollow breath as two troopers started to walk toward their speeder, slowly, subtly leaning forward to turn the ignition key.

"Luke. Get ready to drive."

"Are you crazy?" the kid whispered. "That's a _Stormtrooper,_ Bail. We'll get in so much—"

"Go now," he instructed. _"Now."_

Luke grimaced and slammed his foot on the gas, throwing Skywalker against his seat as the speeder suddenly lurched forward. Random items inside the market kicked up from the ground and hit the shield in front of them before they broke into open land.

Skywalker's knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the side. "Hey, hey, slow down—"

A bright green blast suddenly split between them. Luke yelped, jerking the wheel to the side. He threw a glance over his shoulder.

"They're shooting at us?" he shrieked. "Why are they—" 

"Go left," Skywalker called over the loud engine.

"What?" Luke yelled back.

"Left," he repeated, voice straining, "go left!"

"My left or your left?" 

"We have _the same left!"_

The landspeeder zipped to the right and the floor thudded for a moment before the small trail ended. They dipped with the speeder once it landed on the ground again.

More bolts blew past them. Skywalker puffed out a breath and turned, wedging his right knee in between their seats to anchor himself down. He stayed low. 

"Keep it steady, kid," he yelled. "Whatever you do, don't stop."

Luke looked at him once; then did a double-take, accidentally swerving slightly. 

“Bail, what are you _doing—"_

"Hey, hey, hey, ten and two!" Skywalker pointed at the wheel, and Luke quickly fixed his hand placement. 

Stormtroopers lined the edge of the market, their blasters blazing and aimed toward them. More green slashed through the air. Skywalker slightly extended his hand, hovering just above the top of his seat, using the Force to redirect the bolts away from them. 

Sand blistered and scattered when the bursts hit the ground.

"Bail," Luke called out. 

Skywalker grimaced and ducked, bright green zipping past his head. "Just a second, kid."

"Bail..."

"I said one—"

_"Look,"_ the kid yelled, and Skywalker huffed, finally glancing over to the windshield. 

They were heading right toward a cliff.

»»««

_"The Organas left earlier this morning."_

"They left?" asked Ahsoka. "Where are they going?"

_"Don't know for sure,"_ Kix replied. _"I assume it has to do with the trade negotiations he's been sorting out with Kalo Minor. The princess has been tagging along and shadowing him as an extra-curricular."_

Rex gave a faintly amused expression. "Is that allowed?"

Ahsoka shrugged before turning back to the commlink on his wrist. "Do you know when they will be back, Kix?"

 _"Not for a little while,"_ he replied. _"A couple of rotations at least."_

Obi-Wan heard her sigh. 

_"I can take a message if you'd like? Tell 'em once they get back.”_

“No, that's all right," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Thank you, Kix. We'll talk to you soon."

_"No problem. Good luck finding Skywalker."_

The line went dead. Ahsoka turned to face Rex and Obi-Wan, the white lines around her eyes creased. 

"Maybe we should split up," she said. "If we can cover more ground, we might have a better chance of finding him—“

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Rex. “You said it yourself: we don’t know the land well enough. We’ll only get ourselves lost.”

Ahsoka seemed hesitant.

"Maybe it’s a good time to go back to the hut and regroup,” he suggested. “We’ve searched for hours now and haven’t found anything. We need to conserve our energy the best that we can.”

Ahsoka pursed her lips into a frown. “We can’t just leave him on his own.”

"Ahsoka, I must concur with Captain Rex," said Obi-Wan. "We've done all we can. Perhaps going back is our best option.”

She folded her arms. “What if something happens to him?”

“I’m sure Anakin is fully capable of defending himself,” Obi-Wan replied, shaking his head. “It may be the case that he just needs some time to think. This is precisely how he used to be if you’ll recall.”

“He’s never been gone for this long before.” Then, she paused. “I’m worried he won’t come back.”

Obi-Wan put a hand on her shoulder. “Ahsoka, out of all of us, you’ve had the most faith in him,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time to see if your presence has made an impact.”

She held his gaze for a moment. 

“All right.”

They turned around, trekking through the sand toward the hut. The suns blazed; his cloak nearly felt hot enough to catch fire. Obi-Wan wiped the sweat from his brow.

He should scold himself. He was told that a Jedi could not linger in such a place of indecision—he was not to allow himself to be compromised like this.

He was taught a great many things. 

And for a time, Obi-Wan believed all of them. Perhaps it was because he had already lost everything; perhaps it was because he had nothing left to lose. First Qui-Gon, then Satine, and finally, Anakin. His loyalty to the Jedi only grew through tragedy.

But he was no longer Obi-Wan Kenobi _the Jedi_ or Obi-Wan Kenobi _the war hero_ —that Obi-Wan Kenobi died alongside Anakin Skywalker, standing above a lake of lava on the black sands of Mustafar.

He was only Ben Kenobi now. He had no obligation to fill; no code to follow; no title to his name that mattered. 

All he had left was Padmé’s wish. 

Keeping the children safe was the highest priority. That’s what it was, and what it would always be. Anakin, redeemed or not, would never be without the red staining his ledger. 

_But of course,_ a soft, nearly nonexistent voice reminded Obi-Wan, _neither would he._

The war had put him in the position of making several difficult decisions; judgments that sometimes cost far more lives than they ever saved. There were more names on his list than he could count.

So, perhaps it was not the red in the ledger but the intent. The fact that Anakin would dare to take lives so carelessly; that he would kill for power, with no concern for peace or justice. There was no nobility, no honor, in that way of life—only fear.

It was all right, then, for him to keep the secret from Anakin. Not out of spite, not out of bitterness, but out of his regard for both Padmé and the children. Padmé had entrusted him with Luke, just as she entrusted Bail with Leia, and no matter the cost, he was sure to keep him safe. Whether or not that meant losing Anakin, or Ahsoka, or even Rex. 

The children came first. Indisputably. 

Yet, for such a simple concept, Obi-Wan had never felt so conflicted. Once more, he was reminded of the betrayal in Anakin’s eyes. It found itself seared into his mind, the memories spinning on an endless wheel of repetition.

The children needed to be protected from Darth Vader, yes… but did they need protection from Anakin?

“Hold on.” Rex shielded his eyes from the sun. “What have we here?”

Obi-Wan followed his gaze to a lone speeder that sat in front of a quiet restaurant inside town. 

The three broke away from the trail they had begun to retrace and walked toward it. The vehicle appeared to be in good condition, still. Obi-Wan leaned over the door and peered inside to see if anything was out of place. 

It looked just as it normally did—only, on the floorboard, Anakin's dark cloak. 

Obi-Wan straightened. “This is my speeder,” he confirmed, eyes lifting to the establishment ahead of them. “Anakin must be in there.”

They walked inside the nearly vacant diner. His eyes scanned over the room and he wrapped his robe around himself, looking along the rows for any sign of Anakin he could find. Rex and Ahsoka fanned out to search beside him.

There was only one active table in the restaurant—a human and a Wookiee sitting at the very back of the room. Obi-Wan ended at a booth that stood near a window, crowded with empty trays and tableware. Atop sat the ignition keys to his speeder. He felt a swell of panic in his chest.

With a breath, “He’s not here,” he called to Ahsoka and Rex.

“How do you know?” she asked.

He lifted the keys to show them. Rex grimaced. “That’s not a good sign.”

Obi-Wan nodded grimly, turning to the Er’Kit manning the bar. “Pardon me,” he said, “but you don’t happen to remember a man that came through here earlier, do you?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” the bartender returned curtly.

“He was wearing all black. Tall, lanky fellow.”

The Er’Kit clicked his tongue, dismissive. “No, I don’t think so.”

Rex glowered at his tone. His hand moved to hover above his left pistol. 

“Well, think harder."

The Er’Kit eyed him for a moment, curious, before he hummed. “Now that you mention it, I do remember someone. He came in with Owen’s boy earlier.”

At his words, Obi-Wan felt the color drain from his face. “Owen?”

“Owen Lars.” The bartender spat into the glass he was cleaning, and Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. “He owns a moisture farm out by the Jundland. I just found out that he’s apart of my boss’ lightball league—”

“Do you know where he went?” 

“No idea,” he replied, “but they apparently caused quite the ruckus in town.”

Rex stood beside Obi-Wan and folded his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

The bartender shrugged, placing the glass onto the shelf behind him. “Go outside and see for yourself. I heard they stole a speeder.”

“Stole a speeder?” Ahsoka repeated.

He got to work on another glass. “I was working in the kitchen when it happened,” he said, impassive. “Word is that one of them got shot down by Stormtroopers. There are flyers all over town asking for them.”

Obi-Wan nodded shakily. “Thank you, my friend. You have been very helpful.”

They walked outside again, and Obi-Wan squinted as the suns hit him in the eyes. They looked around the market for damage, and surely enough, there was plenty to be found. Rex leaned down to the skidded tracks embedded into the sand. 

“They couldn’t have gone far,” he said. “These tracks stretch for half a klick, at least. Wherever they were going, it looks like they were trying to get out of here fast.”

Obi-Wan nodded as he got into his speeder, turning the ignition on. Ahsoka jumped in beside him, and Rex followed her. They wordlessly sped off into the desert, following the trail.

Obi-Wan could only hope that they weren’t too late.

»»««

The bright red speeder ran off the cliff, plunging downward until it reached the bottom of the abyss. Parts scattered, burst into flames, broke apart—and Skywalker and Luke stood on a small ledge near the top of the canyon.

Skywalker braved a single glance over to Luke before looking forward again.

Brilliant. Traumatize the child. Gravel crackled beneath Skywalker's shoes as he scaled the cliff; Luke followed his movements, still buzzing with adrenaline.

"How did you—" Luke sputtered his words. "You— _we were_ —how did you jump so far?”

Skywalker hid a wince. "Gravity is different in the air?" 

“You,” he said, breathlessly, “are the man of the hour, Bail. That was _insane.”_

"Don't mention it," Skywalker muttered. He offered a hand when they reached the top, and Luke took it, rolling over onto his back.

"Oh, man." A laugh bubbled in his chest. "My uncle is going to kill me."

Skywalker let himself fall too, ignoring the sand that seeped through his clothes and instead deciding to relish in the solid ground beneath them. “You know, I was serious when I told you not to mention it.”

The kid looked over to him. “Yeah, yeah, just,” he said, “if you ever run into a man named Owen Lars, make sure to tell him I was at Tank’s house all day and that we have never met before, ever.”

At his words, it felt as though a cold hand had wrapped itself around Skywalker’s throat. His pulse skipped and his eyes creaked open as he slowly turned to the side, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“Say that name again.”

Luke looked over to him, confused. “Tank?” 

“No. _Lars.”_ Skywalker sat upright. “As in, Cliegg Lars?”

Luke frowned at his words. “He was my grandfather,” he said. “Why? Did you know him?”

All at once, the sky began to swirl above him, and his heart fell to the pit of his stomach. Skywalker shakily rose to his feet, bringing an unsteady hand to his temple. 

“Owen doesn’t have another brother,” he muttered, more to himself than to Luke. Slowly, a weight began to form within his chest. 

“Another? He has a first?” Luke stood up. “You’re not making any sense, Bail.”

“I’m not—”

The loud humming of an engine suddenly filled the air. Skywalker turned to see a red speeder approaching from the distance, panic rushing through his mind like a tide.

He turned to Luke. “What was your father’s name?”

The kid watched him in confusion. “I never knew my father.”

Skywalker’s mind flashed back to the pendant in his pocket.

The speeder skidded to a halt. Sand splashed to the side from the sudden stop, and Obi-Wan got out of the vehicle, Rex and Ahsoka following suit. 

“Anakin, step away from him,” Obi-Wan called out.

Skywalker stood still, heaving in sharp, ragged breaths while Luke seemed blissfully unaware of everything going on around him. He sighed, turning to Skywalker.

“Hang on, Bail, I've seen this punk outside of my house a few times.” The kid tried to crack his knuckles but they only made a faint creak noise in response. “I’ll handle this.”

Obi-Wan's eyes widened as Luke marched up to him.

“Listen, old man, I don’t know who you think this _Anakin_ guy is, but he isn’t here. You better back off before I call the authorities.” Luke smugly crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s right. I have connections.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, well, you also have tens of wanted posters in the town square accusing _both of you_ of auto theft.”

Luke faltered slightly at his tone. “You’ll never find the evidence.”

“I don’t need to, and apparently, neither do they in order to trace this back to you two.” Obi-Wan turned his attention to Skywalker. “What were you thinking? Being so reckless, putting the boy’s life at risk?"

Luke frowned. “It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even the one driving.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Obi-Wan said. “Let’s add underage driving onto the list, shall we, Anakin? I mean, honestly. What did you expect to happen?”

The atmosphere shifted when Skywalker finally pushed back. He took an abrasive step forward, a whirl of emotion echoing through the Force between them.

“Who is he?” he asked, burdened. 

Silence hung in the air, heavy and thick. Obi-Wan pursed his lips. 

“I’m sorry?”

“The kid,” Skywalker pressed. “Who is he?”

Uncertainty cut through the front Obi-Wan had put on as he averted his gaze. Skywalker looked at his former master with incredulity. 

“It’s him?”

Again, only silence met his question.

Skywalker jabbed a finger into Obi-Wan’s chest. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why you would come back to this filthy planet. It was for _him.”_

Obi-Wan looked between him and Luke. “Anakin, please,” he tried. “Not in front of the boy. We can discuss this elsewhere.”

Skywalker looked to where Luke stood beside Ahsoka, confused, before his narrowed eyes landed on Obi-Wan again.

“Come on, Luke,” he called. “Let’s go.”

But the man moved to the side before Skywalker could slip past. “Where do you plan to take him?” he questioned.

“Back to Owen’s. I’m sorting this out myself.”

“And what do you plan to tell them?” asked Obi-Wan. “That you’ve returned and now you’d like a part in his life?”

“Get out of my way,” Skywalker sneered.

Obi-Wan shook his head firmly. “I can’t do that, Anakin.” 

Skywalker stared at him, thinking over all of the options he had. There weren’t many. After a moment, he set his jaw.

“Luke?” 

“Yeah?”

“Stay with Leia,” he said, turning back to Obi-Wan. “We’ll be right back.”

Luke seemed to take no issue with the sudden arrangement. “Oh man,” he said, glancing over at Ahsoka. “You’ve got it, Bail.”

With that, Obi-Wan and Skywalker walked until they were out of hearing range, neither of them wanting to break the delicate silence that stood between them like cracked glass. There was a spiral of heavy emotions around each of them.

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke. “Anakin, I—”

“Don’t,” Skywalker cut in. “Don’t do that. I don’t want an apology.”

Obi-Wan took a single step back. Skywalker scowled. “You take my kid from me—you force him to stay _here_ with the man that did nothing to help my mother when she was captured—and you can’t even say it to my face?"

Obi-Wan met his eyes. “They’re good people, Anakin.”

“So you admit it.”

“It was not my decision,” Obi-Wan paused, hesitant. “It was hers.”

The anger boiling beneath Skywalker’s skin didn’t waver; his teeth bared, wetness pooling in the corners of his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth,” Obi-Wan insisted.

“The truth,” Skywalker scoffed to himself, already beginning to walk back to the group.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, “I only wanted to honor her wishes. We agreed that if anything were to happen, he would be sent here.”

Skywalker whirled around. “Stop bringing her into this. This isn’t her fault.”

“And how would you know that?”

“She wanted our child to be raised on Naboo,” he said. “She would have never sent him here. Someone else had to have been involved.”

“We were in desperate times, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reasoned. “This was the only way to keep them safe."

Once again, Skywalker debated whether or not he should walk away. He could faintly hear Luke’s laughter from where he stood.

Obi-Wan sighed. “As it is, you and I now have a shared interest.”

“I don’t share anything with you.”

“We both want what’s best for the children,” Obi-Wan paused, apologetic. “Keeping their identities protected is the only way to do that.”

Skywalker scowled, blinking harshly. “What are you trying to say?”

“I think we can both agree that now is certainly not the time for you to get involved with him,” Obi-Wan said. “I doubt that the Emperor has forgotten about you. If someone were to recognize you and they see you with Luke, his life would be put in danger.” Obi-Wan’s prying, analyzing eyes set on Skywalker. “I gather that is not a risk you’re willing to take.”

“You think I couldn’t protect him?”

“Anakin, search your feelings,” said Obi-Wan. “Think about the boy. Do you truly want to turn his life upside down in such uncertain circumstances?”

Skywalker ran a hand over his face and took a long breath.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t.”

“Then for once we can agree,” Obi-Wan said. There was a moment of silence between them before he sighed again. “Anakin, under any other situation, you know I would not keep him from you.”

Skywalker watched him. There was a genuineness to Obi-Wan’s voice, almost pleading—even still, it didn’t change anything. Skywalker, after finally getting the chance to meet his son, would have to be separated from him. The thought twisted through his mind like a strike of lightning, remained like the reverbing sound of thunder; each echo only brought more sorrow.

Skywalker cleared his throat. “They’re waiting for us,” he said, avoiding Obi-Wan’s gaze. “The kid needs a ride back to Owen’s. The least we can do is give him that.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Very well,” he said, “but after that—”

“No contact.”

Obi-Wan frowned. The two walked toward Ahsoka, Rex, and Luke, standing amidst the sand and smoke, where Luke seemed to be passionately relaying a story. He was the first to notice Skywalker and Obi-Wan.

“Bail.” His smile was bright. “It’s about time you got back here. I was just telling them about the time I tried to live only off of jawa juice.”

Rex kept a straight face, “He made it three days.”

Skywalker glanced over to Obi-Wan for a moment before walking over to the kid. He scrambled to find the words. “Listen, Luke,” he said. “I think it would be best if we take you back to your uncle’s now.”

“Oh, I agree,” the kid said with a smile. “I can’t wait for my family to meet you guys. I will admit, my uncle won’t like you, but I’m sure my aunt will—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Luke’s expression fell. “Then what do you mean?”

Skywalker took in a breath, shaky as it was, and cleared his throat. “Luke, after we drop you off,” he hesitated, “you and I won’t see each other again.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

Then, Luke laughed, lightly punching Skywalker in the shoulder. “Good one, Bail. You almost had me there.”

Luke only stopped laughing when he realized Skywalker’s expression didn’t change. His shoulders drooped, deflated. 

“You’re serious?” 

Skywalker swallowed roughly, looking to the ground with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t want it to be this way.”

“Why does it have to?” Luke asked. “We’re buddies, right?”

No response. 

“Right?” he asked again.

“Come on, Luke,” Ahsoka stepped in; Skywalker glanced up at her gratefully. “Let’s take you back home.”

Luke seemed as though he wanted to struggle—but, with a broken expression, he nodded and allowed himself to be led away. Skywalker took in a shaky breath and wiped away the tears that finally fell, trying his best to hide his face from Luke.

“You did well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan offered gently, but Skywalker did not acknowledge him. 

They all piled into the speeder and drove off to the Lars Homestead.

»»««

_“Now, I have matters to attend to. I will see you again before nightfall.”_

Javon headed toward the east landing platform, his spine straightened and his hands clasped behind his back. His footsteps clicked and echoed through the empty corridor. Daylight flooded into the room when two guards parted and opened the doors for him. 

He stood on the platform among four other armed guards. 

A ship appeared in the distance; a smaller model, pearly white, flying in from the horizon. Once the pilot alighted, a ramp slowly extended to the ground, the ship’s doors sliding open to reveal two figures standing inside.

They walked to the middle of the landing platform. He met them halfway, extending his hand with a polite smile.

“Senator Organa,” he greeted. “It is wonderful to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said this would be up by yesterday but i have been: really busy and also i thought of a couple things to add in at last second hehe
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this Very Long chapter!! please let me know what you think :)


End file.
